Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Nether is a harsh and unforgiving place.

Not a lot of people feel comfortable spending much of their time there, certainly not if they're human. The heat can be hard to bear and the air is dry enough to burn your lungs if you inhale too deeply, staining the inside of your mouth with brine. Though the burn isn't really a problem since the oxygen density is so much lower than it is in the Overworld. Every inhale automatically becomes shallow and strained. After mere minutes your clothes will be soaked with sweat and you run the risk of dehydrating.

Technoblade doesn't have those issues.

The Nether feels like home to him, though it never has been where he lived. Not as far as he can remember anyway. But as a piglin hybrid, his body is built to cope with the harsher environment unlike a human's would be. Or even other species that don't live in the hellish lava pits of the warped forest. Where others would prepare for their trips down into the Nether with meticulous planning and ample supplies, Techno can stroll in there like it's a regular Tuesday afternoon. And he does, sometimes. It can cut down on a lot of travel time. He often goes down if he needs wither skulls or something along those lines, without telling others where he's going or without taking many potions. He's only wearing gold greaves and some leather armor pieces.

And he often goes into the Nether alone.

Thus he is alone when he gets jumped by five guys.

Chat isn't allowed to laugh at him, Techno has decided. Even for him, a 1v5 is sort of unusual, and he wasn't looking for a fight today so he's not as prepared as he would like to be. At most, he can expect to run into a familiar face in the Nether he doesn't want to see, and that's not something Techno is worried about. Strangers can't normally get into closed servers.

But unless Quackity suddenly got really into costume design, these guys are new.

They're wearing simple clothes, easy to move in and easy to fight in, with brown capes that cut off at around the elbow. At the shoulder there is an insignia, and not one Techno recognizes either. But it tells him they're part of a unit, which in turn is part of a bigger group. Would be helpful if he knew what sort of group.

"Uh, can I help you with something? If you're lost, the exit is that way." Techno nods in the direction of the nearest portal, using the opportunity to shift his feet into a proper stance and put his hand on the hilt of his sword. It's not hard to tell these guys are targeting him for a reason.

They don't speak. Or if they do, it's too soft for Techno to catch over the ambient sounds of the Nether. They're still some distance away, at least fifteen paces along the length of netherrack that arches these lava lakes. Their faces are obscured with a sort of respiratory mask Techno has seen sold on Hypixel before to people who spend long stretches of time grinding in the Nether to protect their lungs. They're most assuredly humans, then.

So that begs the question what they're doing here.

Techno could ask, but he's not really one for small talk. And these guys don't seem to be in the mood either if the click of a crossbow is anything to go by. Techno catches the bolt on his vambrace. They were aiming for his shoulder, probably. If they're going for non-lethal attacks they might not be trying to kill him.

But Techno doesn't appreciate the alternative.

One guy breaks away from the group, running at him with quick strides. Techno shifts again, bracing for a more defensive posture. The upside of fighting on a bridge is that the enemy can't rush you all at once, since the space isn't wide enough for them to surround you. If they're going at him one by one, a 1v5 becomes a lot more manageable.

The guy coming at him pulls out a blunt weapon, a cudgel of some kind, and raises it over their head. Their footwork is sloppy at best and Techno sidesteps them easily, using his own leg to swipe at their knees. They stumble, and turn, and Techno pushes against their chest with one hand. He hears a yelp as they tumble over the edge of the platform and into the lava below. Techno glances down, seeing them struggle in the viscous liquid. But they must have taken a fire resistance potion, otherwise their meat would be melting off their bones right now.

He turns back to the other four. "I can do that a few more times, if you want. Or we can skip all that and be on our way."

The guy in the back clicks their tongue in annoyance, clasping one of their friends on the shoulder to signal for them to go up next. They could be the leader if they're ordering the other ones around.

Deciding he probably shouldn't waste time, Techno pulls out his sword.

The next attacker manages to avoid going for a swim. Seeing their companion bested so easily prepared them for Techno to try the same trick a second time, so they aim to strike lower. Techno catches their wrist, spins them around, but when he tries to push them the guy kicks at his stomach, forcing him to let go. They aim another strike at his face. Techno leans away.

Well, now he has people on either side of him, which isn't good.

The fight lasts for a few more minutes like that, with somebody advancing on him and Techno forcing them back, making him swivel around to make sure both sides are covered. Though nobody gets close enough to Techno to get another hit in, they also don't get close enough for him to turn the tables. And he'd rather not switch to the offensive, that will always put him at a disadvantage when he's outnumbered. He has to think of something else, before he runs out of energy.

His eyes scan the area. He either should try to find an escape route or call for backup. Techno doesn't like forfeiting a fight, but sometimes it's the smarter thing to do.

He reaches for his bag, pulling out his communicator. Techno has Phil on speed dial, to alert him with the press of a single button. It's something they only really use in emergencies. And Techno doesn't know if this counts as one. But hey, he's allowed to take it easy once in a while.

Another crossbow bolt shoots towards him and knocks the communicator out of his hand.

"Bruh…" Techno sighs.

He renews his grip on his sword and bolts for the side of the bridge where only the one guy is at, wanting to push through them and get away. He can make it to the portal to the Arctic easily, and get them on familiar terrain. Or outrun them long enough to release the hound army on them. If they even bother following him that far, Techno still has no idea what they want from him.

His sword slices a clean arch through the air, and the guy he's approaching flinches, trying to dodge. Techno is faster, cutting through their arm. They grunt and hold the weeping wound, then easily get knocked over by Techno slamming his shoulder into them. He jumps over their prone body, the way ahead of him now clear, when something latches onto his ankle. Techno mistakes it for a hand at first. Maybe the guy he just knocked over has some bite to them after all.

But then it pulls and he realizes it's a chain.

The sharp metal digs into his flesh harshly, lined with razors. The guy holding the other end is the leader. They tug on it hard and Techno loses his balance. To avoid tripping onto the enemy beneath him - and literally into their arms - Techno throws his weight to the side. He rolls off the bridge and falls, a moment of weightlessness precedes a sickening lurch and another pang of pain through his leg when the chain pulls taut and leaves him dangling upside down. Techno expected to drop. But the leader got their buddies to help, and between three people, they can hold up Techno's weight.

Chat is certainly laughing at him now.

Techno reaches up to try and free his ankle, but it's too finicky to do so with one hand and he doesn't want to let go of his sword. A yank makes his joint ache, metal cutting into his skin until he feels blood pour down to his knee. Then a second tug. They're trying to haul him back up onto the bridge.

Wrapping both hands around the chain, Techno yanks back with all his strength.

He's dropped, landing on his back on the rocks below. His spine isn't very happy, but the worse thing is his ankle throbs even when released from the strain of holding up his entire body. Running away could be easier said than done now. Techno winces and blinks, getting only a moment to recover before a shadow moves above him.

He rolls out of the way of the cudgel coming down.

The man hisses. "Fuck, you're annoying."

"You're not really endearing yourself to me either," Techno grunts, trying to get up. They slam into his side before he can. Techno growls, grabbing their legs and pulling them to the ground.

Overall, Techno would call himself a sophisticated fighter - probably against the expectations others have of him. He likes to make his victories swift and clean. He fights with his sword over his claws and tusks.

But that doesn't mean he's above a classic tussle on the ground.

The man screams as Techno grapples his way on top of them. His sword is out of reach, so he wraps his fingers around their throat and squeezes. Chat goes into a frenzy. They've always enjoyed this more brutal type of combat above honorable fights.

They're so loud Techno doesn't hear the crossbow bolt coming this time.

It buries into the soft tissue of his lower back, far enough to the left that it sinks several inches into his flesh. Techno hunches over automatically, the pain cutting through the pounding of adrenaline in his veins. While it's not enough to make Techno let go, his grip slackens and the man manages to squirm beneath him, reaching for their weapon. They grab the cudgel and smack it into Techno's temple.

He's knocked off, cheek hitting the netherrack. The dust clings to his lips, filling his nostrils at the same time the scent of blood hits him. Techno's vision swims a little, though not enough to blot out the next strike coming his way.

With a lot more force, the blunt weapon is slammed into his temple a second time, hard enough to instantly steal his consciousness away.

Tango is in big, big trouble.

Bigger trouble than he has ever been in before. And he doesn't mean the fun kind of trouble. The 'rig redstone to blow up in your friends face harmlessly' sort of trouble or even the 'airdrop a bunch of ravagers on a poor unsuspecting town' kind of trouble.

No, this is real trouble. Actual life-endangering trouble.

And maybe that hasn't really sunk in yet. Tango thinks that's why it still feels funny to him, on some level. Like, adrenaline making things feel hilarious when they're not. The entire situation should be ridiculous. Strangers can't get on the Hermitcraft server. Closed servers are inaccessible either way, but especially when they have Xisuma as an admin, who happens to be meticulous when it comes to security.

How come Tango managed to get himself kidnapped?

He was cornered during what should have been a routine trip into the Nether to get some supplies for his shop. Next thing he knows he's got four guys surrounding him, people he's never seen before. Tango isn't much of a fighter. He's decent enough with a sword not to cut his own fingers off, but that's about it. It didn't take much for the strangers to overpower him, steal his gear, and tie his wrists behind his back. He was quick enough to press the emergency button on his communicator, and Tango just about saw the first concerned messages from other Hermits pour in before one of the kidnappers took the device from him and crushed it under their heel.

But they took him off the server.

Tango didn't know that was really possible. Again, closed servers aren't something you get in and out of without whitelisting or going through several layers of vetting. There are public spaces, but those are few and far between these days. His kidnappers shouldn't be able to take him to a whole different world, just as they shouldn't have been able to enter one.

They opened an inter-server portal as if it was nothing.

Then they took his arm and dragged him through it as if it was nothing too. Tango complained and started to kick his legs, and that's when one guy picked him up and threw him over their shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Tango can curse his dumb noodle arms and legs for that, plus the fact that he's not the tallest guy around. Humans can sometimes be scared to touch him because he's a blaze hybrid, but they clearly are using potions to stand the unbearable fiery heat of the Nether already, so the lashing of his tail meant nothing to them.

Now he's here, absolutely surrounded by more strangers. A lot of them are humans from the hybrid trafficking ring - or that's what Tango has put together they are. Mostly because the other kidnappees are hybrids like him. Nether hybrids specifically. He's running through his head a bunch of doom scenarios and all of them are coming out with glaring red warning lights that are hard to ignore. Tango is going to panic if he keeps this up. And panicking won't do him any good.

But then again it's hard to imagine the situation can be much worse.

All the other hybrids here are like him in that they had their gear stolen, their hands tied behind their backs, and they're outnumbered by heavily armored and very armed guys. A little panic might be warranted. Tango thinks he's due a little panic.

As long as he doesn't let the panic completely blot out his rational thinking.

He has to stay sharp. He's trying to remember all the survival knowledge he does have, which thankfully happens to be a decent amount. Maybe not in combat, but in other stuff. And right now Tango knows he's on the path towards freezing his tush off.

When he went to the Nether, he was in his normal, casual clothes. Obviously he would be, since the Nether is his former home and Tango's skin needs no protection against the elements there. It's in the Overworld that Tango needs his jacket and leggings to keep warm enough to be comfortable, and he even has special attire to go into snowy biomes. He's cold, and they're being hauled through some kind of forest Tango isn't familiar with, on a server he's never set foot on before, surrounded by unfriendly faces.

Not great for warming himself up.

He twitches his arms, muscles getting a little painful because he's forced to keep them stiffly behind his back for hours. He's still wearing his belt, and the pouches on it. They emptied them, but one of them was full of redstone powder. There should still be some residue in there. Tango shouldn't be touching it with his bare hands but desperate times and all that.

He takes some out and sprinkles it on the ground, trying to leave a trail.

Tango wonders where they're going. He knows about hybrid trafficking, broadly, but it's not a super common crime and Tango spends most of his time on a closed server that's supposed to be safe. So he doesn't really see the point of this. The end goal. And that worries him. Makes it hard to plan ahead.

"Hey!" Something smacks into the back of his head. Somebody's palm. "Keep still."

"Sorry," Tango says automatically. He's kind of pissed, what is he even apologizing for? But it slips out without thinking. Not being on the bad side of their kidnappers seems smart.

The guy isn't so easily appeased.

Fingers wind into his hair and pull, his face is painfully yanked up. "If I see you try any more funny business, you're screwed, you hear me?" the trafficker spits. Instinct makes Tango want to reach up and pry them off, but his hands are tied together so all he can do is pull his shoulders up to his ears awkwardly.

"I got it, I got it," Tango says quickly, wiggling in their hold. But the trafficker doesn't let go.

Not until another voice interrupts them. "Man, I think he got it."

The trafficker drops Tango and turns on the newcomer, another prisoner. Tango glances up and notices that the person who was hurting him has a pretty impressive bruise on their face like they got punched earlier. Treats them right! They open their mouth as if wanting to say something, but their leader calls out to them and they fall back into line circling the kidnapped hybrids after throwing a venomous glare Tango's way.

The one who interrupted them helps Tango up so they can keep walking.

"Thanks," Tango says softly, keeping his voice low to not be overheard. "That guy was being a total jerkface."

"Hybrid traffickers aren't exactly known for their kindness," the stranger says, though there's almost a chuckle in their words.

"Yeah, you can say that again." Tango looks up at them, tilting his head a bit. They're a piglin hybrid, which is interesting. To call any type of hybrid common or uncommon feels like a bit of a misnomer, they're always a rare breed. But among Nether hybrids, piglins do tend to be the more frequently seen. Yet he can't shake that something about this one strikes him as vaguely familiar. They have a wound coated in half-dried blood on the side of their head and limp lightly as they walk.

"That guy's not really high up the ladder though, that's why he's so jumpy," the stranger adds on, nodding at the trafficker from a moment ago. "I almost managed to sneak away earlier because of him. He stopped me, but I got him with a headbutt." Their nonchalance in telling the story is a stark contrast to how crappy their situation is. But it puts Tango a little at ease. He grins.

"Nice. Uh, you don't happen to know who these people are, do you?"

"Nah," the piglin hybrid says with a shrug. "Nether hybrid traffickers."

"Yeah… Yeah, I figured." Tango's face falls again. This is bad. Really bad. He shivers when a rush of cold air passes them. Are they going higher up, into the mountains?

"You look pretty pale," the stranger observes.

"I'm fine," Tango says. "Kind of chilly."

"Blaze, right?" The question feels a bit silly since Tango's flame-tipped tail and pupilless red eyes should make it obvious. He still nods, smiling sheepishly. "Here."

While being tied up makes movement a little hard, the stranger manages to take off his cloth belt. It looks more decorative than functional, so maybe that's why he doesn't seem to mind tearing it in two pieces.

"Cover your wrists and lower arms with these, and keep moving your fingers. That should help with hypothermia."

"Thanks." With some issues, Tango manages to wrap the cloth around his arms. "Uh, I'm Tango, by the way. Of the Tek variety."

He almost cringes at his own words, the habit of the quirky introduction hard to kill but embarrassing in the moment. Damn, that was very lame. Good thing Impy and Skizz aren't here, they would totally have laughed at him.

"Technoblade," the piglin hybrid says.

Tango blinks, faces scrunching up for a moment as he thinks. "You're the Hypixel guy?"

"You've heard about me?" Technoblade asks, looking vaguely surprised and amused about that. Maybe because Tango doesn't look like much of a fighter himself. Techno is mostly famous in the prize-fighting community.

"I'm a Hermit," Tango says. "I'm friends with uh, Grian and Jimmy?" Those were the people Techno played with, wasn't it? Tango can't say he's super familiar, just that he vaguely knows about Techno through the grapevine.

"Oh yeah." Techno nods. Tango finds it hard to tell if he really remembers or is trying to be polite.

They fall into step next to each other. Tango nervously looks ahead of them. "Where do you think they're taking us?"

"No clue."

Again, the causal attitude makes Tango chuckle. "You're not like, concerned and stuff?"

"Not really, I've been in worse situations. I'll find my way out of this one," Techno says.

"Maybe I should just stick by your side then since you seem so confident."

He's not sure if he's serious or not. Having a friend would be nice, since they've been kidnapped and all which is not an ideal scenario. But he also doesn't want to be pushy. Techno and him being allies can be good though, right? All of the stuff Tango has heard about the guy was positive. Or most of it.

Before he can overthink it, Techno nods again. "Sounds like a plan."

"Coolio."

Yeah, Tango is not doing a good job of seeming calm and non-panicky. But hey, at least he has a sort-of-maybe friend now to watch his back. And all he really has to do is hold out until this whole mess is sorted out.

A building rises up before them. Tango's eyes widen when looking at it. If he were to try and describe it, it seems to be some sort of cross between a bastion and the Deepfrost Citadel he built. The mere sight of it makes him shiver from the memory, though this thing is missing all the icy imagery so hopefully he's not going to freeze his butt off in there. Techno exhales next to him, face hard to read. Tango doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

All he knows is that they have no choice but to head into the lion's den.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Technoblade thinks Tango probably has the wrong impression of him.

Tango seems pretty in awe of how calm Techno has been acting so far, anyway. And maybe that's part of the reason why he has so easily attached himself to Techno too. Since Techno seems to know what he's doing.

The truth is that Techno doesn't know what he's doing at all. He's not lying when he says that he's been in worse situations before, but that doesn't change how bad this one is. It doesn't bring him closer to finding a way out. And all it really does is allow him to compartmentalize the concern he should be feeling and turn it into something practical. Techno thinks about Pogtopia and frowns, the memory leaving a bitter taste behind. He can only hope things will turn out better this time.

He doesn't think counting on outside help is a good idea. Given Phil's track record, it might take him a while to even notice Techno is gone. If he does notice, what exactly is Phil meant to do about a group of people who can apparently hop in and out of closed servers with no consequence? The Hermits might have more of a shot at getting to them. From what Tango says, they have at least two admins on their side with enough practical knowledge to crack server physics. One of them being Grian, who Techno remembers is good at what he does. They definitely have the reputation of being a resourceful bunch, Techno knows that much.

Tango is resourceful too. He might not be the most combat-oriented guy Techno ever got locked up with, but he's clearly clever and scrappy enough to get by, and knows a thing or two about first aid since Tango checked his ankle for him. No sliced tendons, so they're all good on that front.

And with his knowledge on redstone, Tango could be their ticket out of here.

"They got a whole five ticks of delay on the feeder system," Tango says. Techno nods, pretending he knows what the heck that means.

He actually does grasp the very basics of redstone, but knowing how something is used and knowing how it works are two very different things. Techno forgot a lot of what he did learn when he was young and more interested in applying himself to a bunch of different fields. He's retained enough to make an automatic door here or there, because that's useful when he's making storage rooms or hidden bases. He knows what a piston is, thank you very much.

When Tango starts talking about deliberate delays and automatic sorting systems and minecart mail delivery? Yeah, that's where Techno feels like he's speaking a whole other language.

The mail system does sound pretty pog though. Techno thinks their server could hugely benefit from having a weekly newspaper delivered. Maybe then he'd stop feeling like he's missing out on ten different plot twists happening each day.

"They want less one-on-one interactions with the prisoners?" he guesses. That seems a sensical reason to put some sort of activation delay on your redstone. They've only seen the traffickers in person once or twice.

"Maybe? It also makes it easier for them to control a bunch of stuff from further away." Tango leans back against the wall. "Could be they have a central line to a hub or something." With one hand, he rubs his stomach.

"Are you hungry?" Techno asks.

The flame at the end of Tango's tail becomes brighter for a moment, in tandem with his face getting red, as he sheepishly looks down at his legs. "Nah, I'm good."

The lie isn't very convincing.

"I have some leftover food if you want it," Techno offers. The traffickers have been feeding them pretty regularly. Their threat of withholding a meal from Techno turned out to be empty since food is delivered through a dispenser system to the back of the cell where anybody can grab it. So far, no infighting has occurred. Techno thinks it's only a matter of time, but since no more than a day or two can have passed, everybody is still in shock. The other hybrids just sit around and barely talk, looking at the walls or sometimes each other, anxiously waiting for whatever will happen next. They're not going to be kept here forever. They're going to be sold.

Things could get better for them then… or they could get a whole lot worse.

"Really, it's fine," Tango repeats with a little displeased frown. Techno gets the feeling he's more upset at himself than anything.

He could tell Tango that it doesn't matter too much, he can take the food. Techno is rationing out of habit, a precaution that's automatic to him, but he doubts starvation is their biggest issue right now. And the nausea of the concussion hasn't left him too hungry, he's eaten more than his fill. He could say that he understands. Hunger is difficult for somebody who has never known resource scarcity. The Hermit server is so different from the ones Techno usually frequents. They've exchanged some stories by now. It sounds like they don't really have to worry about food on there, and no wars take place that aren't exclusively prank-based. So if this is one of the first times Tango has had to deal with not being able to eat whenever and whatever he wants, it's normal not eating will bother him a lot quicker.

But Techno doesn't really feel close enough to Tango to say those things so he just shrugs, and holds on to the food for now.

"They're probably going to feed us soon anyway," he says.

Tango stretches out his legs again. While the cell isn't cramped, it's annoying for both of them to sit still all the time. "How do you know?"

"Just a guess," Techno says. In reality, he has been more or less timing how long it takes between each food delivery.

He gets up and offers Tango a hand. Tango takes it, allowing Techno to haul him to his feet. His skin is very hot. Techno was afraid Tango could be getting a fever from the stress at first - he found out the hard way that that's a misfortune that can happen to some people - but turns out it's just a blaze hybrid thing. Their temperature is even higher than a piglin's.

"What's up?" Tango asks.

"If I give you a boost, do you think you can take a peek inside?" Techno asks, nodding at the delivery system. It is set high up in the wall, iron flaps that only open on a specific time schedule and through which the hybrid traffickers drop chunks of bread, Nether wart, and fungi. Techno doubts it's a possible escape route but they might as well get a closer look.

"Yeah, I can do that," Tango says with a nod.

Techno kneels down in the corner of the room, intertwining his fingers so Tango can use them as a step up. His hand balances a little awkwardly on Techno's shoulder, though it's not the physical proximity that seems to bother him. Techno lifts him with a grunt and leans back into the wall for balance, looking up to see Tango tap the metal. Some of the other hybrids in the cell are watching them.

"Anything?" Techno asks. He's surprised by how light Tango is. He can probably punt this nerd easily. The thought brings a slight grin to his face.

"They're also redstone powered," Tango says. Not that this is new information, they figured as much. "Huh, their lines go up into the ceiling." Tango leans forward, trying to see past the flaps.

"So?" Techno hoists him up a little higher.

"I think we're underground."

That seems odd. Techno can't remember them being led down any stairs when they arrived. But then again, they only saw the front of this place. The chutes are definitely not big enough to crawl through, not even somebody like Tango.

Right about when Techno predicted they would, the flap opens. A new load of food is dropped down, some of it being caught in Tango's palm because he's prodding at the delivery system. A few of the other captives scamper over to collect their meal, and one larger hoglin hybrid glares at them.

"Hey! You're not trying to steal all of the grub, are you?" the guy asks. He's about as tall as Techno, and almost twice as wide. Which is an achievement if anything.

"We're not," Techno says. He quickly gets Tango back onto the ground, who holds out a balled-up Nether fungus to the hoglin.

"We're just curious about how stuff works around here," Tango adds. "Promise."

The hoglin scowls, not very happy with the answer. But he grabs the food and pushes against Tango's shoulder so he can get into Techno's face. "Don't mess around with things that are going to get us all in trouble."

"More trouble than being kidnapped?" Techno asks. "Or is your grand plan to just sit around until they decide that hybrid trafficking isn't so profitable after all? They might even give us a free ride home."

"Your grand plan is going to get us killed," the hoglin hisses. "I'm not taking the fall for you two."

"Good thing we didn't ask you to."

A fist curls into the front of Techno's shirt, pulling him closer. The hoglin guy narrows his eyes, the red irises scanning Techno's face. "Listen-"

Techno doesn't actually get to find out what he's supposed to hear. The door to the room opens, and one of the hybrid traffickers steps inside. Upon seeing them, the man walks up to the bars and bangs into them with the end of their bat-like weapon.

"Break it up you two!" they yell.

Techno raises his arms. He's not the one throwing a fit here, and he'd like for their captors to know that. Tango tugs on the edge of the hoglin's shirt. "Now we'll be in trouble if you don't give it a rest."

The hoglin scowls down at him. "I can't remember asking your opinion, pipsqueak."

Techno rolls his eyes, rears his arm back, and punches the hoglin hybrid square in the jaw. He goes down like nothing, really. All talk and not much stability in the legs. It's always the same with these types.

"I told you to knock it off!" the trafficker yells again. They gesture to one of their friends, and the bars on the cage come down. Techno looks over, surprised that the trafficker would step into a cell full of prisoners alone. Seems like a dumb move.

But he realizes that was the wrong assumption to make one moment later, when his world explodes into white-hot pain.

Tango lets out an automatic sound of dismay as he watches Techno crumple against the wall. He reaches out, wanting to steady his friend, but ends up flinching as soon as he touches Techno's arm. The shock is faint when conducted through another person's body, but Tango is familiar enough with redstone to know what this is. Wha- it doesn't make sense. Redstone should only be able to shock you if you apply faulty wiring?!

"Anybody else want a taste of this?" the trafficker asks, waving some kind of remote around.

Techno is grappling at the collar around his throat, much too tight and much too hot where the metal meets skin. Tango's brain starts reeling. A shock collar fitted with redstone wiring? Conductors in the floor? It couldn't be-

Would they really do something that heartless?

Techno stops spasming, and this leads Tango to conclude the shock has worn off. He tries to check on the piglin again but is wrenched back by the elbow.

"Why doesn't it surprise me that you're the one causing trouble?" the trafficker spits, pushing Tango aside to focus solely on Techno. That's the second time this has happened today.

"I like to be consistent," Techno manages to grit out through the pain.

The trafficker clicks the button again, and Techno's head slams back against the wall when another shock runs through him. Tango's skin itches, the palm of his hand where he touched Techno burns. The feeling is familiar - you don't become a pro redstoner without having your fair share of accidents so Tango is more than acquainted - but that just makes his senses crawl with the knowledge of what Techno is suffering through. He wishes he could do something. He just doesn't know what.

All those feelings are boiling into anger and Tango doesn't think he can do anything worthwhile with that so he stomps them down hard and tries not to make things worse.

When the second shock is over, Techno doesn't move, aside from the odd compulsive twitching of his fingers where he's slumped against the wall. The trafficker turns to Tango, and Tango shifts, feeling sick to his very stomach.

"Fuck, this is what we get for leaving the valuable merchandise in with the scrap, huh." The man reaches out, and puts his hand on the back of Tango's neck. "Can't let you get hurt when these guys start to brawl it out." Tango kind of goes completely stiff and motionless at that, something too close to fear running through him. The gesture reminds him of friends throwing an arm over his shoulder, and laughter, and jokes so bad they shouldn't be funny.

Except then the guy starts dragging him towards the front of the cell, where the bars are.

"Wait, hold up now!" Tango starts to cartwheel his arms, a gesture that doesn't end up doing anything except make the trafficker pinch down hard until he's wincing in pain.

"Don't be difficult," the man says.

Tango wants to laugh in their face because, honestly, that's kind of rich coming from the guy who kidnapped them! He has some nerve telling him he's being difficult because he doesn't like to be hauled around like an inanimate object. Tango treats most armor stands with more respect than this! But even that can't quite make it out of his throat.

He's dragged from the room and for a second Tango's eyes are shooting around, taking in everything, looking for an opportunity to get away. He can just find a hole to skedaddle into and be on his way, if only things were that simple. Wishful thinking.

What happens instead is that he's thrown into a new room.

This room does not have bars. It has four walls, and an iron door that has strange material on the inside, and the entire thing is about as big as a closet. When the lock slams behind him, Tango's back is already pressed up against it. And he wouldn't be able to outstretch his arms in front of himself without touching the walls.

That's- Oh, oh that's pretty bad. Maybe now things really are panic-worthy.

He turns around, there's no handle on the inside of the door. It's not even redstone powered. For some reason that makes Tango laugh, a high-pitched and desperate chuckle that hurts his own ears. They got delayed feeder systems but no redstone on their isolation cell? Nothing for him to distract himself except the shadows afforded to him by the dim glow of his own tail. No sound, no light, nothing. Tango presses his hand against the door and even that feels too smooth.

"Hello?!"

He bangs on it, unsure why. They're definitely not going to open it.

"Come on, guys, this is-" Tango hisses and pulls his hand back. Not entirely smooth then. The door has some sharp edges. Tango feels the blood drip down his wrist, curling his other hand around the injury.

The sharp scent of gunpowder stings his nostrils.

Tango thinks he saw blood on the wall too, where Techno slammed into it. And Tango isn't even there to try and bandage it this time. That sucks. Tango hasn't known Techno for very long, but has already decided he likes him. He'd like to be helpful to him.

Maybe if he stays perfectly still, they'll let him out sooner.

Or maybe that'll allow him to tune out the sound of his own strained breathing if nothing else.

Chapter Text

The brand mark hurts more as time goes on.

Tango worries about infection. Kinda feels like a minor thing to be worried about in the grand scheme of what's happening. But there's not much else to do in the darkness of the room than play out doom scenarios in his head, and Tango manages to quickly work himself up from being concerned about a possible infection to thinking about amputations. Gnarly stuff, and very unsanitary, but at least he could get a cool prosthetic out of it. Doc has one of those. Tango might not rock the look quite as well but he can make it work. Honestly, it'd probably fit into the steampunk aesthetic he's got going on currently. Do people make prosthetics out of brass? The smell of blood is overwhelming in this tiny space.

Tango misses his friends.

He misses Skizz visiting him to talk his ear off about whatever and he misses Pearlie getting excited (and scarily competitive) about the minigames he builds and he misses Zedaph roping him into some random experiment that seems to have no point to Tango though honestly what does he know? What does he care, as long as they're having fun? He hopes they're all back home having fun right now.

Well, he also hopes they're looking for him. They probably are. Tango is almost a hundred percent certain Xisuma is tearing into some poor unsuspecting admin at this very moment. The idea almost brings a smile to his face. It's hard to be miserable when he's thinking about his friends.

Time passes slowly in solitary confinement. He doesn't even have Techno's stories to keep him company. Tango doesn't really know how long he's locked up for but they don't feed him so it can't have been forever. When the door opens, the sudden flash of light in his eyes makes him flinch and rub at them with both hands. It reminds him of when he was working on Decked Out for hours on end and finally had one of the other Hermits pull him out to see the daylight again.

"Come along now."

The hybrid trafficker doesn't wait for him to get up. They grab Tango's elbow and yank him upright, barely giving him the time to get his feet under himself. He shouldn't be happy that he's back to being dragged around like an inanimate object, but Tango finds it hard not to feel like anything is better than that tiny, dark room. He'd take any other cell over that place.

Except they don't take him to a cell.

Not the one he came from, or any of the others that logic would indicate are in the same hallway. He's being brought in a different direction. After registering his own surprise at this, Tango starts to look around wildly, trying to soak in as many details as he can. Anything he can learn about this base could come in handy later. It's like the world's worst escape room!

The trafficker stops at a door, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a remote. The door opens.

It's not the same remote as the one they used to activate the shock collar.

Tango files that away for later. Different circuits, different controllers. Could be critical when trying to escape.

"I brought the one you asked for." The trafficker comes to a sudden stop and Tango also stops taking in his surroundings to look ahead of him. They're in a bigger room, crowded with items and people, and in front of them there is a guy who looks somewhat different from the rest. He could be the leader, or at least somebody with authority over the others. Probably not the guy in charge of everything here. From what Tango remembers about trafficking operations, the big shot isn't going to get their hands dirty.

The leader looks at him for a moment and nods. "Good. Put him back in the big cell, I read blazes get temperamental when they're not socialized properly and the last thing we need is misbehaving stock."

Their dehumanizing language is really starting to get on Tango's nerves. "You do realize I'm a person, right?"

The leader glances at him again, smile thin and unamused, then promptly turns away. The guy holding Tango's arm shakes him around a bit, not really painful, more like an afterthought while he talks. "What about training?"

"I don't want to train this one. The seller probably wants to break him in."

Isn't that just nice and ominous.

The man holding Tango grunts, not completely sounding in agreement but close enough. He turns back towards the door, and it's then that Tango catches a glimpse of pink in his peripheral vision. Most piglin and hoglin hybrids have hair in various shades of pink, blond, sometimes light brunette. But maybe it's the messy braid or maybe something else that catches Tango's eyes, he knows it's Technoblade.

"Techno?" He acts before thought catches up, trying to pull free from the man holding him. A bunch of the other captives - Techno included - are lined up against the wall, on their knees. Their hands are tied in front of them. They're facing away from Tango so it's hard for him to tell what the point is, but several of them have lashes across their skin that leave little to the imagination. What kind of sick fuck would confuse torture with training?! What is the point of hurting innocent hybrids to get what you want?

Tango feels dumb for complaining when this is what they're doing to the others.

A sharp yank on his arm makes him hiss, the force sudden enough to make his joint ache in protest. Tango growls, and feels his insides heat up. Literally so. His skin isn't far behind, the flames flicking brighter for a moment and the trafficker holding him curses and releases him before his flesh gets burned to a crisp.

"Techno?" Tango calls again, and he swears he can see the other man turn his head a little, trying to look at him too.

Then a fist closes tightly around his tail.

The tug is quick but shoots up his spine all the way to the base of his neck, every vertebrae twinging in sympathy with the rough treatment of what might be his most sensitive body part. Tango whirls around and claws at the closest thing he can reach. His nails drag across the man's face, deep enough to draw some blood.

"Fuck- Control this thing, would you?!" the man screams and Tango hears the leader sigh loudly next to him, not really concerned but probably annoyed at the whole situation. He braces for the shock. He's honestly half surprised it hasn't happened already. Tango has plenty of experience being shocked by redstone circuits so he knows what to expect.

Except he's not shocked.

Fingers press into the soft tissue of Tango's throat. For one second he blinks before a palm connects with his cheek hard enough to throw him to the ground. Tango's face stings, his head is ringing.

That was close to embarrassing.

He tries to get up but a boot plants on his back firmly, compressing his lungs and pinning him down.

"Did he bond to one of the piglins?" the leader asks, back to sounding bored.

"Uh, I think they might have known each other before being captured," the other guy says, hurrying to grab Tango's arm into a vice grip again when the leader gestures to. He couldn't be further from the truth, but Tango sure as hell isn't looking to enlighten him.

"Punish the piglin in his stead then. He'll learn how to behave."

"What?!" Tango says. His outsides are burning, but at those words, his insides become as cold as ice.

"And get this one back to the cell, before he has another fit. The buyers are coming by tomorrow, we can't have any accidents now."

Pain never did much for Techno as a deterrent.

When boiled down to the bare basics of physiology, pain is simply a negative stimulus your nerves send out to warn you of something. An injury, an illness, your tail freezing off because you're a baby piglin freshly wandering around in the overworld and frostbite is a real chore. Naturally, people are averse to it. But you can also learn to ignore it.

The more pain you feel, the more you get used to it.

That doesn't make it pleasant. Techno dislikes pain as much as the next guy, no matter how easily he can grit his teeth and power through it. He just thinks that as far as teaching people to obey authority goes, it's one of the less effective measures. He's not impressed with this entire operation.

He is bleeding a lot though…

One of the lashings hit the half-healed arrow wound on his lower back. The tear was barely holding together, sticky with congealed blood and fibers from his clothes. Techno had been ignoring it more or less, since they hardly had the first aid tools needed to look after it, not even water to clean the wound out.

Now he can feel the wetness of more blood dripping down his back steadily. Not a good sign.

"Up. Get up." One of the traffickers walks down the line and taps every hybrid on the back of their head. For Techno it sends an unpleasant ringing through his skull. Oh right, concussion. It's always something with him, isn't it?

He gets up, leaning against the wall with his shoulder. His legs have lost feeling below the knee from how long he'd been forced into the position. An unpleasant tingling almost instantly picks up beneath the skin, making him aware of how dizzy he is.

They're led back to the cell. Techno can't help but notice that they didn't take everybody from the same cell at the same time, and they were also split into mixed groups with other hybrid captives. He supposes they're trying to keep people from forming cliques, or developing friendships. Tyrants always hold the most power over disarray. Unity is what allows people to fight back.

But despite their best efforts, Techno did kind of make a friend, didn't he?

"Oh geez." Tango is pretty much by his side the moment he's shoved into the cell. The traffickers had the decency to cut the rope tying his hands together during the whole 'training' thing. Techno's wrists are rubbed raw, some of the chaffing deep enough to draw blood. Like his legs, his fingers are tingling. "Are you okay?" Tango asks, then does a bit of a funny thing with his face like he's smelling Ranboo's cow farm or something. "Stupid question, that's- yeah, no, never mind. Sit down."

He takes Techno's elbow and leads them over to one of the corners so he can sit. It beats collapsing into a heap wherever, though it's a kindness he doesn't need. "Where did they put you?" Techno asks.

"I think it was a broom closet, actually." Tango chuckles, shaking his head in disapproval at his own joke even as he's actively making it. "Don't worry about all that, you look, uh-"

"Dashing?" Techno finished for him.

"If you use a very loose definition of the word, sure." Something passes over Tango's face then, though Techno doesn't really know Tango well enough to pinpoint if it's guilt or something else. As long as it's not pity. That's the last thing Techno needs.

He reaches behind himself, briefly brushing over the torn-open wound from the arrow. When applied a certain way, whips are designed for pain more than permanent injury. He doesn't feel like many of the lashings were deep enough to be of concern. But Techno does feel the swell of more blood pushing to the surface against his hand, enough so that his shirt basically feels like a wet rag at this point.

"What's wrong?" Tango asks, always with the questions. Techno wonders if prying into other people's business is a Hermit thing. He doesn't need to answer anyway, because Tango's eyes follow the motion of his arm down and he definitely notices. "Oh."

"Happened while I was captured," Techno clarifies. "Not my finest moment."

"Yeah, being captured wasn't mine either," Tango answers flatly. "Do you think it needs stitches?"

Lifting his palm slightly, Techno tries to crane his head back to get a proper look. The angle makes that impossible. "Maybe. But we don't have anything to do it with."

Tango bites his bottom lip, looking around as if a fully stocked medical pavilion is likely to appear out of thin air. Obviously not but it's a nice thought.

Instead, Tango reaches for Techno's hand. He lifts it away a bit, assessing the wound for himself. Techno allows this to happen. Tango frowns, then nods with refound determination.

"Hold on, we're going to have to improvise," he says.

"Improvise how?" Techno asks.

Tango pulls something from his pocket. Techno can't remember the last time he has seen a safety pin. Not something a lot of people carry around with them anymore. "Now I just need something to use as thread," Tango says.

"You're going to stitch my wound?"

"Unless you'd rather bleed out."

While that's definitely an overreaction and Techno can probably wait for clotting to kick in, keeping more blood inside his body where it belongs is the smarter move. If he grows too weak or passes out, they could lose out on an opportunity to escape. He nods. "I have some string on me."

He was saving that for Ranboo, actually. No clue what the kid was working on, he just asked Techno for string the other day and he never had the chance to give it to him.

"That'll work." Tango takes it from him, then holds the sharp end of the safety pin in the fire of his own tail to at least somewhat sterilize it. What they're doing hardly holds up to medical standards in most servers - even the barracks in Hypixel wouldn't stoop this low. But desperate time.

When he's done, Tango maneuvers a bit to sit more properly beside him, making Techno bend double in his own seated position so the wound is easily reached. Techno can't see Tango's face anymore, so he doesn't know the reason for the other man's hesitation until he speaks out after a few terse seconds.

"This is probably going to hurt pretty badly, huh."

"Probably," Techno agrees.

"Do you want something to uh, bite down on? Or whatever they do."

Techno exhales a laugh. He's concerned Tango's obvious reluctance will lead to shaking hands. That'll definitely make the process more painful. "I'm good."

"Yeah! Yeah, you look just peachy." Tango sighs, shifting a bit. Techno is about to ask him to get it over with when he feels a palm settle reassuringly against the bottom of his neck. "Okay, sit still. I'll be quick."

The needle piercing his skin is a cold, sharp sensation at first. Pain isn't the word for it. Techno feels the pressure more than the sting. But he does feel his skin pulled together, stretching the wound unpleasantly as it's forced shut. The burn of irritation settles in quickly after. Techno clenches his jaw and breathes through it, not wanting to distract Tango from the job at hand. The needle goes in and out and in and out and Techno stops trying to keep track of every single stitch because that only makes it worse. With a small tug that sends another twinge of pain into his hip, Tango stops.

"There, all settled." He leans away. "Not the worst I've done, honestly."

Techno reaches back once more to gently prod at the wound and assure himself it's closed up. "You were pretty quick with it." He's had to sew Phil up once or twice before and he was never that adept at it. Too finicky for him.

"Cleo showed me some techniques," Tango says. Then he laughs. "For clothes, I should say. We're not often doing this sort of stuff on the Hermit server. You know, stitches up flesh wounds."

Techno sits back against the wall. "Can't relate." It's a pretty common occurrence back home.

He meant it as a joke, but Tango looks a bit conflicted. "Yeah, but it's my fault this happened so the least I can do is try to fix it."

"What do you mean?" Techno asks.

"I might have freaked out a teensy tiny bit earlier," Tango admits, pinching two fingers close together to show what he means. "And they said something about hurting you worse to make me pay." He looks at Techno with some apprehension, waiting for his reaction.

"Eh," Techno shrugs. "They were looking for an excuse anyway. I haven't exactly been staying on their good side. Don't bother getting torn up about it."

Though he doesn't know whether to be flattered or concerned that a threat against him seemed to work its intended goal of slowing Tango's roll. He cares enough not to want Techno dead, sure, but turns out Tango does not want him to get hurt either.

Techno is aware he's not always the most liked guy around so he'll take it as a compliment.

"They also said something about buyers coming by tomorrow," Tango adds. He pulls his knees up to his chest, his usual way to sit when they have to wait a while.

Techno nods. "Might be our best shot at escapin'." Slipping away while being transported will be a heck of a lot easier than finding a way out of a locked cell.

In theory.

In practice, it relies on a whole lot of factors. And if they are sold to different people, that'd be the end of their little alliance. Though neither of them probably needs that said out loud.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

There is a saying about frying pans and fire.

The new place is objectively nicer than the traffickers' base. They've been upgraded from tiny cells and winding hallways and a lack of windows to a courtyard and a proper dorm (Tango refuses to call it a stable) and marble architecture. He remembers another proverb about gilded cages. That's kind of what this feels like.

They were handed new clothes and were allowed to take a bath though.

Tango isn't really big on water, but it was nice to clean up a little bit. The woman scowled when she saw their brand marks, mumbling something about gaudy displays of possession under her breath. Their new clothes have long sleeves and a thin layer of felt on the inside. They're honestly rather nice, a thought that makes Tango feel a little weird because calling any part of this nice is completely off the table, thank you very much! However, since they're allowed to spend time outdoors, warm clothes are appreciated. The woman's mansion reminds Tango vaguely of the castles Scar sometimes built, in a way that is aching and raw.

"You're good at this," he says.

He is sitting in the dirt, catching his breath for a moment. Tango is physically active enough not to get winded easily, but farming is one of those things he'd usually make into an automated process. He's also not very good at it. Techno leans on his tool, smirking down at him.

"Doesn't take much to be good at farmin'," he says.

"Yeah?" Tango leans back on his palms and looks up at the sky. Seeing the clouds again is nice too. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you're enjoying yourself."

"I am enjoying myself."

Tango chuckles. "We're kidnapped and you're enjoying yourself? Yeah, that makes total sense."

"I'm enjoying the farming, not the kidnapping," Techno says flatly. He indicates his head in a wordless signal that Tango should get up. One of the handlers is watching them. The woman owns a lot of hybrids. And she has a lot of servants too, who are one rung higher up the hierarchical ladder. "Though honestly, not the worst kidnapping I've been through. They didn't take my horse hostage this time."

"That's-" Tango stops to laugh incredulously. "No, that would do it." He picks up one of the farming tools by its wooden handle. "Can I be honest with you? Your server sounds kind of terrible."

"Not my server," Techno answers. "Just the one I live on. But yeah."

Servers can be a complicated topic. Each one is like a little tiny world, held in the palm of an admin's hand. There are networks, and connections, and public servers are subject to a vast set of rules that can make your head spin trying to keep track of them all. But private servers? Cesspools of mystery. Even admins can vary in how much control they have over their server, and how they decide to conduct themselves to their members. Tango hears most of them are extremely pleasant. He never had to complain about Xisuma. But he also knows there are servers with full-blown wars, politics, all that good stuff. Or bad stuff. Definitely bad stuff.

"Have you considered moving?" he asks.

"Eh, most public servers aren't my style. And Hypixel isn't really a place you live permanently," Techno says.

"What about making your own?" Making your own small-scale server is easy enough. Tango isn't talking about sprawling hardcore servers or anything, more like the pocket dimensions they use as testing worlds. You don't even need to be an admin to make them.

"Sounds boring," Techno shrugs.

Tango never really thought about it too deeply, but he supposes that's true. He wouldn't like being stuck in his redstone testing world forever, isolated from everyone and everything. Hanging out with his friends is half the fun. But he's also speaking from a position fortunate enough where he's got an invite into a safe, smaller-sized private server where people have ample supplies and don't fight over stuff. Techno sounds like he's not always had the best luck in that regard.

"Maybe you should just move to Hermitcraft," Tango says, pushing the metal end of his tool into the ground.

Techno snorts in disbelief. Before Tango can continue talking, a shrill whistling sound rings out over the courtyard. Other hybrids quickly throw down their tools, eager to go in for food and sleep after working all day. Techno straightens his spine, sharing a meaningful glance with Tango. Since they arrived here two days ago, they've been working on an escape plan non-stop. And they're pretty close to achieving something.

While all the other hybrids file inside, followed by most handlers, Techno also walks to the gate. Tango stays, picking up rakes and shovels from the ground. Before long, it's only one handler at the gate, Techno himself who is standing near them, and then Tango picking up random tools.

"Hey! You!" the handler calls out to Tango. "Didn't you hear the signal to go inside?"

Tango pulls his shoulders up a little higher, ears flattening. "Oh, yeah! I was just trying to-" He plays at meekness. The handler rolls their eyes in annoyance and starts to walk over to him. Their strides are a little faster than Tango anticipated. They're at his side in a blink, grabbing his wrist. To stall for time, Tango slightly digs his heels into the ground.

"I told you to come along." It's minutely better than being pulled around by his tail but Tango really is sick of all the manhandling over the past few days. He puts up a small amount of resistance, which does make the handler growl and tug harder but distracts them sufficiently from what Tango doesn't want them to notice.

When they get to the gate, Techno is innocently standing there with his hands behind his back.

"Back to the stables, both of you," the handler growls, pushing Tango at Techno. They nod.

"And?" Tango asks, as soon as they're out of earshot, rubbing his aching wrist with one hand.

"It seems feasible," Techno says. "We would just need to get some stuff."

"Like what?"

"A trowel would help." Techno eyes the handlers behind them, making sure they're too far back to hear. "Maybe a pair of pruning shears to use as a weapon, if we can get away with it."

Tango doesn't manage to muster up a lot of pretty imagery at the thought of trying to fight somebody with a shear, but whatever works, right? He'd do just about anything to get out of this place. "So what's the plan?"

Techno almost raises an eyebrow at his enthusiasm. "Theft?"

"Sure, but… Without a plan? That's a little uncreative." Tango stops talking as they reach the 'stable'. Calling it that feels icky to him, and not just because the word 'stable' evokes a place where animals are kept. The room is more like a barrack, or a dorm room. A sizable stone building at the far edge of the property where the workers sleep and eat.

Tango doesn't know why the woman who bought them has a thing for hybrid slavery specifically. As far as he's aware, the human servants - including the handlers tasked with keeping them in check - are paid and enjoy more freedom. It's probably an endurance thing (and a speciesism thing, but Tango is refusing hard to unpack that right now).

Though, the woman also has a flair for the exotic and rare. She sometimes brings them inside for other people to ogle at. She told some of the handlers to keep an eye on Tango too, since he's the first blaze she's ever owned, she has something planned. Fingers crossed their behinds are on the other side of the server by the time that happens.

In a corner of the room, their beds are pushed together. Kind of like the cell at the trafficker hideout, they seclude themselves from the other hybrids around, not all of them too keen on interacting. A lot seem content to keep their heads down and mumble that life isn't too bad, silently hoping that something will change without them needing to put their relative peace on the line for it.

"What's your idea of a creative plan then?" Techno asks once they're at their spot, picking up the thread of the conversation effortlessly where they left off earlier.

"I dunno," Tango says with a shrug. "Use something to distract the handlers, maybe? A diversion."

Techno sits down with a sigh. Tango notices he's left his food untouched tonight, but decides not to mention it. "Sounds risky."

"Riskier than stealing from them while hoping they look the other way?"

"There's only about five of them watching and over a dozen of us, their eyes can't be everywhere at once." Techno does seem slightly unsure about that. "Doing something to distract them will draw attention."

"I still think we should do it," Tango insists. "I should do it. I mean, if it weren't for me, you'd have gotten out already-" A flick to this forehead makes him wince. By the time Tango looks up, Techno has already pulled his arm back.

"Don't spend energy on theoreticals, it wears you out," Techno says. He pulls up his legs to lie down on the cot, wincing a little at the wound in his lower back. "It's not your fault what happened."

"I guess," Tango mutters.

But it still keeps turning in his head, over and over, long after he is supposed to fall asleep. He has to do something to make up for it.

Not a day has gone by since they arrived here that Techno hasn't woken up with a pounding headache.

This isn't exactly new territory for him, but it's annoying all the same. Their 'owner' even took care of their injuries when they arrived. She mainly seemed concerned with the brand mark, to be frank. However, the wound on Techno's temple and his back from where the arrow struck him both got cleaned out and bandaged. They haven't stopped hurting or anything. He'll just take what he can get.

Even if what he can get is the absolute minimum of medical care.

The courtyard they're being kept in is about thirty feet wide in each direction, with large patches of earth in the middle for farming, which is what the hybrids are mainly supposed to keep busy with. They're only called inside on specific occasions, and usually the rarer ones or the ones their owner values more. Techno is very grateful not to count himself among that lot.

Techno tills the ground, waiting patiently for whatever Tango has in mind for a distraction.

He'll admit he's not entirely fond of the idea, but he'll also admit his plan of waiting until nobody is looking in his direction wasn't the most soundproof. He knows Tango is beating himself up over being the reason Techno did not escape from the cart during transport. Never mind there was a lot more going on than just that back then.

This escape attempt will be better, and if this goes off without a hitch they'll have some tools with them which could be useful. The courtyard is fenced in on all sides, but there are a few spots where Techno thinks scaling the wall is possible. The problem remains the shock collars. They're rigged up to go off if the hybrids try to leave a certain perimeter, they were told as much when they got here.

The woman said it as if it was a boast, and not her showing her hand thus leading them to know exactly what they are dealing with. Rookie mistake.

"Ready?" Tango asks, snapping Techno out of his daze. He blinks for a few sluggish seconds, forcing his vision to focus.

"Not waitin' for a parade," he mumbles back. Tango looks at him a little funny. Techno thinks he stole the saying from Phil, but he doesn't quite remember. Maybe he's saying it wrong.

Scrunching his eyes when the sunlight burns them, Techno waits until his skull has stopped feeling as if it's trying to cave in on his brain. By the time he manages that, Tango is already halfway across the courtyard. Techno watches him pull on some other hybrid's sleeve, then rear back and punch the other guy.

That's the distraction?

Techno almost laughs, feeling maybe a tiny smidgen bad for it because Tango does get sucker-punched almost immediately in return. Techno winces. That's gotta hurt. It kind of works as a diversion though, because two handlers instantly shoot towards the ruckus and all the others are looking that direction too. Techno grabs the rake he's holding firmly in both hands and breaks it over his knee. The splintered wood turns into two medium-sized poles. He quickly throws them in a corner of the courtyard, the one nearest the stable building. They can grab it on their way out. Now they just need a trowel to dig through the decaying bricks they found earlier and-

A swell of nausea rushes over Techno as he's walking back.

The sick feeling goes accompanied by more pounding between his temples, so it might be another migraine. Techno has those often, and even more so if he's had his head smacked recently. He slows his pace, swallowing the sudden amount of saliva in his mouth. He might be about to puke. Glancing ahead, the mock fight is pretty much broken up and it doesn't look like he'll have a lot more time to fly under the radar. If he wants to make use of the distraction, he'll have to be quick.

Except then, with the next step, a sharp stab of pain seems to shoot all the way from the ground up his spine and into the base of his neck.

Techno lets out a strangled gasp equal parts pain and surprise. He feels his bottom eyelid twitch involuntarily before that sensation also gets swallowed up by something heavy and dark that settles over everything else.

By the time he manages to breathe again, it's a stuttering inhale that shakes his ribcage. He's blinking up at several faces over him, and at least one person hovering by his side. Something is shoved under his neck, uncomfortably lumpy. His mouth tastes like acid. And his entire body hurts, muscles all stretched out from the fatigue.

Did he just-

"Can you hear me?" an unfamiliar voice asks. Techno blinks a few more times to get it to settle, to sink into his brain. Why does it sound like it's coming from miles away when he can see the woman's lips moving right next to him?

"Y-yeah?" Techno tries. He sounds hoarse.

"Good." She looks up at one of the handlers. "I don't think it was anything serious, he'll be fine." Techno finally recognizes her as one of the other hybrids, also a piglin he thinks. She has been here for a very long time, but seems kind enough. She's often the one making sure everybody gets their food and blankets and stuff. Techno doesn't trust her in the slightest. She seems a little too complacent with the whole 'being owned like property' thing. If she knew they were planning to escape, she'd definitely tell on them.

Techno furrows his brow a little at her calling a seizure 'nothing serious'.

But he doesn't correct them either, especially as one of the handlers grabs his elbow to yank him upright. "Get into the stable and walk it off then, we can't have this shit."

Techno would love to tell them that seizures are hardly a voluntary thing. He's not falling to the ground convulsing for fun or anything. Once more he decides to hold his tongue. One handler follows him to the stable and watches him lie down on his cot. Techno didn't plan on falling asleep, but when he closes his eyes, he feels exhaustion seep in truly. His body aches all over and his head isn't doing much better, so a light nap shouldn't hurt.

He wakes up to Tango shaking him.

Techno hisses, the shaking aggravating how much he still hurts. Tango sits back on his haunches, looking at him with a sympathetic expression. He has a huge bruise on the side of his cheek, the swelling creeping a little below his left eye and making it look squinty.

"Sorry, just checking you're not dead. Took you a bit to wake up," he says. The tone is light enough to carry the joke, even if Techno can sense the underlying anxiety.

"My frontal lobe is basically a milkshake at this point," Techno retorts. A hyperbole, yet one that certainly feels accurate. They seemed a lot more concerned with fixing up their external wounds when they arrived. He wouldn't be surprised if he had brain damage at this point.

Concerning, and something Techno really rather not think too deeply about. Partly because it hurts to think right now and partly because walking away from this whole kidnapping thing with a permanent reminder would upset him.

"Well, at least your distraction was a lot better than mine so…" Tango trails off there.

"You got the stuff?" Techno asks.

The blaze smiles, tail wagging. "I got the stuff."

Silver linings. Techno's unplanned traumatic brain injury can have an upside after all. He's glad Tango didn't let himself be blinded by worry and took the opportunity to secure their escape rather than fuss over Techno.

Except, the fussing can still begin.

"Do you need anything?" Tango asks. "Food, water? I could fight another guy for their pillow if you want an extra one."

Techno shakes his head with a laugh, regretting the motion when that only makes him feel more unsteady. "I'm fine, really."

"I'm serious," Tango presses. "You uh, you don't look too hot."

"Thanks." Techno rubs at his face, the texture of his skin unpleasantly flaky. But he still hasn't puked, he thinks. If he can't keep anything down, he'll rapidly get too weak to do much. "You don't need to worry about me."

"Wha- Seriously?" Tango says a little louder, and looking genuinely affronted. "If you weren't around, I'd be long dead by now. You do realize that, right?"

"So?" Techno asks.

"So I'm trying to return the favor because I don't want you to die either. You're my friend!"

It sits a little awkwardly between them. Techno thinks it's the most frank and outright confession of friendship they've had so far, and maybe the most outright confession of friendship Techno has ever taken part in since he usually lets his actions speak for themselves. They both must have known for a while this was more than an allyship out of convenience. Still, to have it said out loud…

"I'm not dying," Techno decides to answer. "Unless our grand escape tomorrow goes horribly wrong. Then I'll probably die of embarrassment with how much effort we've put into it."

Tango sacks back into his own cot with a laugh at his poor attempt at humor, but the tension drains from his body.

Techno thinks that's a good sign of friendship too.

Chapter Text

Techno spends the hours until nightfall floating in and out of consciousness.

He told Tango to sleep, since they need to escape using the cover of darkness. Getting all the rest they can before is important. They only have a plan to get out of the estate, not so much for what to do after. Techno figures they'll have to cross that bridge when they get to it. Because hybrid slavery is obviously not illegal on this server, finding somebody and asking for help feels off the table. But they might be able to find a portal that'll get them to a hub world. Or a communicator they can use to reach somebody.

Anything. Techno is ready for this entire thing to be over with.

For once, Chat is not as scathing in their commentary. There are still enough voices making fun of him or pointing out he has been taking the L a lot lately, but some of them are encouraging enough. They like Tango, and they don't like being stuck here. When they have a goal in common with Techno, they're eager to try and cheer him on.

Despite them meaning well, Techno wishes they'd leave him alone for once. His head already feels like it's going to implode. Blinking hurts, breathing hurts, motivating his brain to string two cohesive thoughts together hurts. It's hard, but he has to hold it together a little longer and then he can fall apart into a heap and hibernate for a few months. Sounds nice. If he looks pathetic and miserable enough, Phil might even bring him breakfast in bed.

"Techno?" A warm touch falls on his elbow. Techno opens his eyes, not having closed them with deliberate intent this time. "I think everybody is asleep." Tango's voice is pitched low in a whisper. The little flame at the end of his tail is almost completely extinguished, glowing like smoldering embers.

Techno pushes himself up with a grunt, swallowing away another wave of nausea. "Okay, let's go."

"Are you sure you're good? We can postpone for another day," Tango says. Apparently, he looks like crap in a way that's actually pretty visible. Techno shakes his head.

There is a lot that can happen in a single day. They can't take that risk, no matter how sick Techno feels right now.

"Do you have everything?" he asks. They've been rationing some food over the course of several meals. Enough to get by, should they fall without a reliable source for a while. Tango has it all bundled up in an empty pillowcase, tied over his shoulder.

"Yeah, let's roll."

There are no handlers that watch over them while they sleep. Escaping would normally be out of the question with the walls and all, so no need to keep somebody awake all night watching a bunch of hybrids catch their Zs. It's laughably easy to sneak out of the stables and into the courtyard after Tango picks the lock, a shiver running down Techno's spine at the crisp night air. They turn to their little corner, where Tango used a tarp to hide their treasures. The two wooden poles Techno got them before his seizure, then the trowel and a pair of pliers. Tango pulls out the piece of rubber he stole from the trafficker base too.

Techno thinks it's the most thrown-together assortment of escape items he has ever seen, but the plan is pretty solid.

He picks up the trowel and forces it into the gap formed by a crack in the stone wall. If they were able to climb over, that'd probably be quicker and easier. But the top has sharp dripstone points precisely to prevent that. Thankfully they got lucky with the wall naturally corroding over time, otherwise they could have been in trouble. As it is, Techno wiggles the tool back and forth to widen the gap and destabilize the structure, putting more force on it gradually.

"Is this also one of your patented farming tactics?" Tango asks, still quiet enough not to wake somebody up by accident. He's hovering over Techno's shoulder so close Techno can feel his body heat again. The sensation doesn't feel out of place to him anymore like how it used to at the start.

"You can dig irrigation channels like this," he defends. A bit more of a back-and-forth movement, then one of the bricks falls away. Techno keeps going, using his other hand to press against the wall.

"Looks tedious."

"More tedious than redstone?" Techno doesn't believe that can be true.

"I guess not." As soon as the gap is big enough, Tango scoots in so he can use his hands to help, tearing at the loosened bricks. "But when you're doing redstone you're using your head. So it's more about brain power."

If Techno were to try and use his brain power right now he'd puke. "You use your brain for farming too," he says. "Knowing where the best roots can take hold, soil composition,..." He trails off. He honestly doesn't care about those things, they only matter when he's trying to maximize potato output. But he feels he should mention them.

Tango seems to have the same thought. "Does that really matter though? As long as something grows, you're good."

"Nah, nah, nah. Where's the fun in that? Why settle for a puny little potato when you can win a number one spot."

Tango grunts as he causes a small avalanche of bricks. Both of them automatically freeze, waiting for the slightest sound from inside the stable or maybe a handler coming to check out the noise. But it remains eerily silent.

"You're very competitive," Tango says, handing him the rubber strip.

With some trouble, Techno manages to slide it between the skin of his throat and the collar. The way Tango explained it, if enough of the inner surface of the collar is covered in rubber, that should stop the redstone from shocking him. They don't have time to test the theory first.

"What tipped you off? The multiple championship wins, the fact that Hypixel still has my name in all the ledgers, or the potato war?" Techno asks.

"The fact you never let me win in tic tac toe," Tango says dryly. "You'd kill at the minigames on our server."

Techno laughs. "Get good." The gap is big enough now that he can probably fit through with some effort. Techno adjusts the rubber one final time, grabs the pliers, and starts to crawl through it. If he gets shocked, he's sure to notice quickly enough.

But nothing happens. Techno catches Tango sigh in obvious relief.

"Stay here," he says, "I'll be right back."

He doesn't wait for Tango to respond. Techno walks into the thicket of trees until the wall is almost out of sight. Like during the transport, he can't help when it crosses his mind that he could have the perfect opportunity to get out now, assuming he doesn't go back for Tango. The thought barely held any merit for him back then and it certainly doesn't anymore now. Techno uses the plier to pry at the back of the collar, where a clasp is keeping it shut. Doing this while inside the walls would have sent a pulse to the redstone circuit - according to Tango. But now that he's far enough beyond the property line, it should be fine.

The wrenching takes a few seconds before it pays off, seconds during which Techno's hands get sweaty and shaky from the effort, and the pounding in his head builds to a constant thrumming. He gasps a little when the metal snaps off. He scratches at his neck, the skin irritated from constant pressure.

It worked, though. Tango was right.

Techno returns to the wall, watching as the blaze hybrid hunches anxiously on the other side, tail flicking in short tugs. Techno wonders if he was worried he'd be abandoned. Probably not, but if the roles were reversed it might be the sort of thing he'd be worried about.

"Here, take this." He hands Tango the rubber through the gap. Tango fiddles trying to get it under the collar.

"It worked?" he asks, as if Techno being there is not obvious proof of that.

"Like a charm."

When he's done, Tango crawls through the gap too and together they head away from the wall again. Once they're far enough, Techno helps Tango get rid of his collar too, placing his hand on the back of the shorter man's neck to do so.

"What now?" Tango looks around them, at the darkness of the woods.

An excellent question. As pointed out before, they don't really have any leads. "Just pick a random direction away from that place," Techno says.

The terrain is treacherous, with undergrowth that easily reaches up to their ankles and uneven ground. Techno doesn't know how far they'll have to travel to find any other sign of life. Some servers are extremely small, and others so large that you can't hope to get anywhere by foot.

"What's the first thing you'll do when you get out of here?" Tango says, a little skip to his step.

"Sleep."

Techno wants to sleep for a thousand years by now. And an extra year for every additional minute he has to struggle in this darkness. Would it have killed these guys to provide some outdoor lighting around their evil slavery-operated estate?

"Sleep sounds great," Tango agrees after a minute, chuckling. He rubs at his face, the bruise from the other day having turned from brighter purple into more of an off-color yellow. Though not by much. "I doubt I'll be allowed to do much else for a while anyway. Man, Impulse is going to kill me. Proverbially."

Techno smiles a little. Yeah, he can't imagine Phil is in the best mood right now either.

A strange tingle, almost closer to a shock, runs up his spine. Techno stops and leans against a tree, his legs suddenly getting so numb he doesn't know if he can move them properly. For a short moment he automatically reaches for his throat, but the collar is gone, and the sensation is different. It seems to be coming from higher up. He hisses as the pain stabs sharply into his cerebellum before waning a bit.

"Are you okay?" Tango asks. He's doing that a lot, hands up and then not continuing. Still a little reluctant to touch without permission even though they really should be way past that point.

"'m fine," Techno starts, then flinches when the stabbing returns with a vengeance. "We can keep going."

"You can lean on me if you need to." Tango offers up his shoulder, and Techno is about to point out that hardly seems like a difference considering Tango is both weaker and shorter than him, then Tango's ear flicks back and his entire posture goes rigid.

Techno hears it too a moment later.

"Move!" Techno says, pushing Tango's back. A few squeaky noises come out of him, Techno doesn't think they're supposed to be words anyway. He follows the movement of a flame in the darkness when they both break out into a run.

The dogs that are after them get louder.

Techno doesn't know how their escape got noticed so quickly. It can't have been the collars - he doesn't think. Something else then? He wishes he knew what.

He doubts it matters once they get caught. They might not even be kept alive.

"Ah, shi-" Tango comes to an abrupt halt and Techno tries to do the same, but his brain feels too scrambled for fast reflexes. He ends up running into the other, and that sends them both tumbling down the steep incline that surprised them in the dark. Techno hits the ground shoulder first, then his temple. Not the one he injured before, though he doubts being equally concussed on both sides is going to be an improvement.

When his body stops, the world continues to spin around him in dizzying circles as his vision sways. Techno closes his eyes, not wanting to vomit up the little food he had today.

And Chat is back to cajoling. They're never on his side for long, are they?

"Ugh…"

When he drags his hand over his face, Tango feels a warm wetness. Blood. Did he- Oh no. He pokes but finds his nose unbroken, so that's good. A searing pain from his lip seems to be the reason, he must have cut himself when he fell. That's not good. He feels some other bumps and bruises, but nothing terrible. The hill really wasn't that large so things could have been a lot worse, they could have fallen straight into a ravine or something.

Trying to get up, Tango winces at the pain in his wrist as he puts his hand on the ground. He might have sprained it, maybe worse. When was the last time he broke a bone? Did that feel different?

Techno makes a rather miserable sound, almost as if he's trying not to swallow his own tongue, and that snaps Tango out of being distracted by his own misery.

"Techno?" He crawls over and notices blood running down the side of Techno's face.

"Yeah?" Techno says, like when Tango is trying to ask him a question.

"We need to go, come on." Tango scrambles to get his feet under himself. "I'll carry you if I have to, you big oaf."

Techno frowns - either at the mediocre attempt at banter or Tango's proposal to carry him. "I don't think you'd get very far." Definitely the proposal then.

"I can-"

Another strangled grunt, Techno forcing himself into sitting upright. The blood pours faster. "It would only slow you down. We need to split up, it's better."

"Split up?!" Tango echoes with some disbelief.

"I'll try to stall them and you can go get help."

"Yeah, and I'm sure help will just magically come falling out of the sky!" Tango's voice rises as he gestures in agitation. Is this guy trying to be dense on purpose? "What if they kill you? What happened to the whole 'Technoblade never dies' thing you keep talking about?"

"Well, there's a first for everything," Techno says sarcastically and Tango honestly never got this close to punching an injured man.

It'd be cathartic.

"Don't worry about me," Techno urges again. "If you try to carry me or stay here we'll both die. I can take care of myself until you get back."

"But-"

"Go!"

Tango flinches, and for a moment it all gets to be too much. The yelling and the dogs barking and how tight his skin feels, prickling with dirt and the pain of dragging along the ground falling down a hill. The being kidnapped and missing his friends and he just wants things to go back to how they used to be. He stumbles and runs, not even caring where he is going except away from all that.

He keeps moving for about a minute more, until he tastes iron in the back of his throat, and his breathing has spiraled out of control bad enough that he's going to start hyperventilating. Tango stops, curling his hands into fists and slamming them into his legs a few times. Not very productive, but he doesn't know what else to do to calm down. Breathing exercises? Jimmy taught him a few of those. Inhale for four seconds, hold it for seven, then out for eight? That's supposed to not make him panic as badly. Or simmer down the boiling anger inside him to a manageable level.

Not that it works, Tango is panicking just as much as before, but now his head is cleared enough to realize that he left his friend to die.

Oh man, he's a horrible, horrible person.

He turns, and he can hear shouting too. The dogs and the handlers, so close they are probably already where he left Techno. They might be about to kill him right this instant. Cursing pretty much every major and minor deity that's known to him, Tango hurries back.

He sees one of the dogs first, snapping and pulling on its leash, held back from grazing Techno by the skin of its teeth. Techno, who somehow managed to get himself standing, and is holding one of the wooden poles, but it's a futile effort. Tango watches helplessly as one of the handlers pulls out a sword.

"Wait!" He throws himself in the middle of it. "Wait! Hold on!"

Almost comically, the entire scene comes to an awkward standstill, aside from the dog still barking and Techno swaying on his feet.

"Your boss likes rare things, right?" Tango says, gasping to catch his breath. "Tell her I know a server that's absolutely loaded with hybrids. Uncommon ones, rarer than a blaze hybrid. If you let us both live, I can lead you there."

The handler who is facing him directly holds out their arm, stopping their companions in their tracks. "How rare?" they ask.

"Creeper hybrid rare," Tango answers, instantly feeling guilty for it. There is absolutely no way he'd ever give the Hermits up to these jerks! But he needs leverage.

The handler watches him for a moment, the smirk that grows on their face full of yellowed teeth. "And what stops us from killing him and just taking you back?"

Techno makes a noise in irritation, but he also looks a few seconds away from collapsing again, so Tango has no issue talking over him. "Then you might as well kill both of us because my lips will be sealed."

Absolutely, it's a bluff. Tango hopes they don't call him out on it and decide to do some murdering and torture. Tango is not made to endure torture.

But that's a horrifying prospect he only has to hold back for a second, before the man nods.

"Tie them up. We're taking them to the boss, see what she thinks."

Chapter Text

Tango has bought them a negligible amount of time.

Not a lot, but better than nothing. Anything is better than nothing at this point. He had to give up the coordinates of a server to be believed, and he hopes Grian won't be too mad at him when he finds out Tango cited one of the only server numbers he knew by heart that's not the Hermit server itself. An old offshoot that Grian runs his games on, and which Tango is hoping very much is set to private during the times it's not actively in use. It should be. Then, if these knuckleheads go looking, they'll find it closed off and the information hidden from public view. They won't be able to tell Tango gave them wrong intel!

They also will be motivated to keep Tango alive since they need a whitelisted person to access the world. They can't just use the same method the traffickers used to hijack the Hermit server and Techno's home server to begin with, since that only gives them access to the nether. Which… it would be rather unfortunate if they did that since there's always a chance one of the Hermits is in the nether at any given time. But these jerkfaces don't realize the server Tango is talking about is technically the same one he got picked up from. So the thought shouldn't even cross their minds.

He's been breaking his brain trying to figure out how the traffickers managed to get into a private server. Shreds of conversation when they were brought back to the woman who bought them has finally enlightened Tango on the secret.

All of the nether is connected.

All of it. Every single server world is like a tiny pocket dimension and the nether is like a pocket dimension inside a pocket dimension, except it's endless, and in a way, there is only one 'nether'. Overlap is prevented by server code and player code and jada jada, Tango honestly can't grasp the technical terms. It's all gobbledygook to him, he's no admin. All that really matters is that the traffickers can sneak into the nether chunks of other servers, not the overworld servers themselves.

What a deceptively simple trick.

But they need him to get into Hermitcraft. And if they want to use him, they can't kill him. They can't kill Techno either.

"Back straight."

The heel of somebody's boot lands on his ankle, pressing down so it can grind the bone into the dirt. Tango gasps and automatically straightens up from his semi-slouched position, despite how it makes his knees hurt more. His muscles strain at being forced back upright, but Tango swallows that down. He's trying to liken it to the full-body aches he gets from overworking himself. Not too different from being forced to kneel for hours on end.

He's getting off easy compared to Technoblade.

They're making an example out of them, and so every other hybrid captive has to watch because they need to know what happens if they ever think about escaping. The punishment that awaits them when they end up failing. Tango can't tell how long he has been kneeling, wrists crossed behind his back, sweat stinging the nape of his neck. Long enough for the hollow of hunger to grow into a cavern. But he's just kneeling. It's not that bad. Kneeling isn't the end of the world. Tango is lucky. All this time, ever since he's been kidnapped, he's been incredibly lucky.

Because Techno has been there to catch the brunt of everything.

He can see that now. There's no more blatant display of that than the one currently going on right in front of him, the blood that drips over the dip of Techno's neck and stains the courtyard's sand a rusty red color. At first, every thud of leather meeting skin made Tango flinch. The sound is awful. Everything about this is awful.

But Techno didn't even wince. Not when a kick to his ribs sent him sprawling. Not when they yanked him back up by his hair, gravity making his entire body tilt forward, pulling down on tired limbs.

Techno took the blame for their escape attempt.

Tango suspects the woman and her handlers know that it was more of a team effort, they're not idiots and it's not like they've been very subtle about being friends. The woman seems fascinated by it more than anything, one time mumbling under her breath about the prospect of codependent relationships between blaze and piglin in the wild. Tango wouldn't know anything about all that. But despite them both being equally responsible for the disobedience, the handlers seem more than happy to punish Techno the worst. Maybe since they don't want to kill Tango by accident.

Because that is what Tango thinks for one sudden, bright and frightening second, when Techno slumps down and doesn't immediately move anymore. That they've killed him.

But then the handler in charge loudly addresses the group of hybrids, words turning to static in Tango's panic-stricken brain. An example. Do not become like him. The same will happen to you. One of the other handlers throws a bucket of water on Techno and the piglin jolts, chest heaving as he sputters in a shaky inhale. The handlers walk away as if nothing happened and after a tense moment, the hybrid captives resume their work, carefully avoiding eye contact and none of them stepping in to help. They all give Techno's still-twitching body a wide berth, as if being near him is enough to catch something. Tango scowls at himself, feeling a rush of anger rise up his neck. He looks at the handler standing next to him - the one who was tasked with keeping him in his kneeling position - but they've already walked off. Tango quickly scrambles to his feet, ignoring how much that hurts, and runs over to Techno's side.

"Techno?"

Tango touches his shoulder. Techno makes a noise low in his throat, half growl and half whine. It makes Tango pull away at first, instincts honed enough to know that's the sound of a very pissed off and not happy piglin. But then he swallows and bends forward to more properly help Techno upright.

"Techno, buddy. We need to get you inside, okay?" he asks.

Techno's eyes slide open, and then he nods. He's aware enough to know what Tango is saying. That's good. That's something. Techno is too tall and probably too heavy for Tango to do much carrying but he can help support Techno's weight.

With some difficulty, and much slower than Tango would like to, they manage to get Techno inside to their cots. Tango doesn't have anything to wrap the wounds with, so he grabs one of their blankets and starts ripping it into long strips. He doesn't get cold easily. It should be fine.

Man, how often should he keep repeating that before some part of him starts to believe it?

He sloppily applies the makeshift bandages to the worst cuts that are bleeding. Before long, Tango's hands are sticky with blood, making him grit his teeth at the unpleasant feeling. Techno's skin is warm. He might have a fever.

"Can you turn around?" Tango asks.

Techno grunts again and shifts so he's facing Tango more with his side and back. His quietness is rather unsettling, Tango isn't used to Techno not cracking jokes, or verbalizing his thoughts. Maybe he's not as much of a yapper as Tango is, but he's definitely somebody who talks to fill the silence. Tango supposes it's a testament to how badly hurt he is.

The wound on Techno's back looks terrible. The tissue around it is bloated, red with infection. Tango doesn't dare touch it, but he knows it's not looking good. Not much he can do about it though.

All he can do is help Techno lie down, using the blanket he didn't rip up to cover him.

"Get some rest," Tango says. "We'll figure a way out of this soon."

Techno watches him, but doesn't say anything before closing his eyes. Skizz did always tell Tango he is a horrible, horrible actor who couldn't lie to save his life.

Techno can't remember the last time he was this sick. It might have been before Pogtopia even.

Thoughts are fluid in this state, and don't lend themselves well to surfacing memories. He soaks in it, before deciding that he might as well let go. He can't do much of anything as it were. Chat reduced to murmurs, his muscles too drained to function, mind trailing off into nothing. His skin feels wrapped too tight around his flesh, pressing down on every inch of him. He's uncomfortable and in pain. Nothing new there.

Somebody wipes the sweat from his forehead, mumbling to themself.

Techno tries to squint through a swirling mess of vision, unsure if this person is familiar to him. A wisp of blond catches his eyes and he smiles, slightly, through the taste of iron stuck behind his teeth.

The name comes easy to him. "Ph'l?"

Even as he says it, he knows it's not correct. The person halts for a moment before continuing, reassuring cadence returning. Despite it not being Phil, some part of it is known and Techno feels at ease. Or as at ease as he can get when he's sick. Techno blinks sluggishly. Then he decides to close his eyes properly and sleep.

When he wakes up again, he's somewhat more lucid. He's also alone. Sitting up, Techno rubs a shaking hand over his face and looks around. The other hybrid captives are inside the building, and he spots Tango on the opposite side of the room. When he turns around with food in his hands, he sees Techno is up and visibly brightens, skipping a little as he comes towards Techno. Some of the soup in the bowl he's holding sloshes over the edge.

"You're up! Good, that's good!" Tango grins, though Techno would have to be blind not to see the strain hidden beneath. His throat hurts, but he forces himself to answer.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Probably only a couple of hours," Tango comments. "How are you, uh… how are you feeling?"

Techno blinks slowly again, needing a second to parse the question and take stock of every frayed nerve ending. He eventually settles with an unamused stare.

"Yeah, fair, that was a stupid question, huh?" Tango mutters. He holds one of the bowls out to him. Techno starts to reach for it with both hands. His palms cup against the ceramic, and it's only Tango holding onto it and guiding it into his lap that keeps him from spilling all over himself. A little embarrassing.

For now, Techno just lets his skin soak in the warmth. It gets close to being nice since he feels freezing to his very core. He trembles slightly. The fever hasn't passed. Overall, he's not doing the greatest. But there's something humbling about knowing that Tango was looking after him while he's been sick.

"You mentioned a name when you were half-awake," Tango says suddenly. "Phil? Said it a few times, though I don't know if you remember."

"He's a friend," Techno says. Phil is a bit more than simply 'a friend' but Techno doesn't really feel like getting into it at the moment. Chat is quiet. They miss Phil.

Techno misses Phil too.

"He wouldn't happen to be on a public server right now, would he?" Tango asks, voice a little hopeful. He glances around to make sure nobody can overhear them.

"Why?" Techno asks. "You're cookin' something, aren't you?" He knows that look on Tango's face.

"I think I might have thought of a way to send out a distress signal but it'll only work if I send it to a communicator on a public server. It's also very dangerous…"

Techno decides to not ask for details at the moment. He considers the unknown at hand first. Where would Phil be? Well, if Phil hasn't noticed he's gone, he won't have left the server so that'd be an issue. If he has noticed, there's a chance he's gone to Skyblock or something to look for him. A long shot, but a possibility.

"What's the plan?" he says instead.

"It's not much of a plan," Tango says evasively. Techno can't tell if he's being self-deprecating or perhaps just reluctant to oversell the idea. Techno really thought their escape attempt had merit - and it probably would have if it wasn't for that poorly-timed seizure - so he's feeling somewhat deflated himself. They don't want to get their hopes up for nothing.

Neither of them is the type to throw in the towel after a minor setback though.

"We need to steal a communicator," Tango explains. "I can log in with my emergency procedure."

"Logging in on a new communicator isn't easy," Techno says. Those devices are personalized for a reason.

"Normally, yeah. One of my friends taught me a trick," Tango says. He taps up against the bottom of Techno's bowl of soup, urging him to eat something at least. It'll probably be better if he does, nauseous as he is. Not eating will only make him grow weaker. "I can access one very briefly, but I'll only be able to send out a name and coordinates. And it'll only work within this network, or outbound to a public server."

Techno has never heard of anything like that. He trusts Tango, though. If he says this will work, it will.

And pickpocketing a communicator can't be that hard. "We can make that happen," he says.

"There are definitely going to be extra eyes on us," Tango points out. After all the crap they pulled, the handlers will undoubtedly keep a closer watch on them two specifically.

"I'll figure something out."

He's not half as sure about that as he's trying to make himself sound. But Techno isn't going to give up. Not when they've got this close already.

He's gonna get them out, or he's going to die trying.

Ranboo knows something weird is going on.

He's not as oblivious as some people seem to think he is. And that's fine, right? Because, well, Ranboo is never really sure of anything so if others also think he's not sure of anything that's good. They won't mistake what he does know for what he doesn't know. Right. Yes. Easy.

What Ranboo does know is that Phil is acting weird.

What Ranboo does know is that Techno hasn't been around for close to three weeks.

Techno sometimes takes off on his own and doesn't always offer an explanation on where he's going. Or maybe it's that Ranboo never asked. Before, he didn't think it was his place to ask. After, he thinks he trusts Techno enough not to ask. His mind tells him that makes sense.

But when Techno is gone, Phil doesn't act weird. So the two things coinciding feels ominous to them.

Maybe Ranboo does stay up at night keeping an eye on the other two cabins, that is neither here nor there. He's worried. His concern is coming from a place of care. Phil will just smile and say everything is fine if Ranboo presses him.

And if Ranboo wasn't watching the cabin, they wouldn't have seen Phil try to leave in the middle of the night.

Ranboo didn't think far ahead, not far enough to know what they would do if they did notice something out of the ordinary. Something like Phil taking off into the darkness, without sharing what has been going on. Ranboo's reaction is almost entirely instinctual. They don't get a chance to second guess before they're already ankle-deep in the snow.

"Phil!"

Ranboo flinches at the loudness of his own voice, cutting over the eerie silence of nighttime. Phil turns towards him, eyes unsettlingly bright in the dimness. Ranboo doesn't think he's ever seen Phil look this foreboding before, this serious. Some of the harshness on his face melts away when he sees it's just Ranboo who called out to him.

"Ranboo, it's the middle of the night. What are you doing out here?"

"What are you doing out here?" Ranboo asks, dodging the question expertly. Jup, he's so good at this.

"I'm just headed out. You should go back inside," Phil says.

"This is about Technoblade, isn't it?"

Phil hesitates, something for Ranboo to latch onto. He knew he was right! He could tell!

"Is he in trouble?" Ranboo presses.

After a second or so more - a second during which Ranboo starts to feel the sting of melting snow against his shins - Phil relents. "We think so, yeah. But we're working on it."

"Who is 'we'?" Ranboo asks.

"I have a friend helping me out-" Phil starts.

"Can I come?"

He's unsure if Phil will be surprised by Ranboo wanting to tag along. They're friends, aren't they? All three of them. Of course, Ranboo would want to help make sure Techno is okay! Is what Phil is setting out to do so dangerous that taking Ranboo along will make him a burden?

Except, the conflicted look passes as quickly as it came. Phil nods, urgently. "Grab some stuff then, quickly. We need to get off the server before somebody notices."

Oh…

Not what Ranboo had been expecting.

But he nods, and turns back to his cabin quickly. He's already offered his help, so he can't back out now.

Chapter Text

The Blood God is not a deity that receives prayers.

Not that Techno would be prone to praying either way. He's more of a 'take matters into your own hands' sort of guy. He doesn't like relying on others - mortal or otherwise - to solve his problems. Any mess he's ever gotten himself into, he can get himself out of. Not to say he doesn't appreciate his friends. Just because you can do things by yourself doesn't mean it's bad when you don't have to. Certainly, something the past year or two has shown him time and time again. However, In a pinch, he can take care of himself perfectly fine.

This might be the sole exception.

Techno doesn't know if he'll survive this. It's a startling realization, cold and a little detached. He thinks he felt something similar on that stage during his execution, hands getting sweaty gripping onto a golden totem. Not the certainty of death but the acknowledgment that survival is not certain either. The totem could have failed.

Techno could die before they're rescued.

He's never felt this persistently sick before. The aches aren't going away, the fever won't settle except for a vague simmer that still leaves him lightheaded. He doesn't trust his fingers to hold onto things properly anymore. The handlers don't seem to care. They won't kill him because Tango asked them not to, but they won't go out of their way to keep Techno alive either. If something else picks him off before they can, they have plausible deniability, right?

The truth is, that doesn't mean Techno is going to stop trying to get them out. Dying isn't on the agenda quite yet, so he hasn't given up or anything. He's just accepted that, if not for himself, he has to do it for Tango too. Because even if only one of them makes it out - and it won't be Techno - then all their stupid attempts so far will have mattered.

"How good are you at pickpocketing?" Techno asks.

He's only passable at the skill himself, and certainly not when his hands haven't stopped shaking in days. He had another seizure last night. Tango was asleep, so Techno hopes he didn't notice. Having seizures is kind of cringe and he has a brand to maintain.

"Eh, I can manage," Tango says.

Techno nods. "Good. I'll get their attention, you yoink the communicator when they're distracted, then make sure you put it on the ground somewhere nearby when you're done."

"On the ground? Why?"

"We want them to think they've dropped it," Techno says. "Otherwise they might check their last outbound messages."

"Right, right," Tango replies, expression wry. "That'd be bad." Bad might even be somewhat of an understatement. "What sort of distraction are ya thinking?"

"I'll come up with something." Techno grunts as he straightens, every inch of his body protesting the minimal movement. Maybe he'll puke. That counts as a distraction, right?

"Be careful," Tango says, softly. Techno almost smiles.

They're past being careful, but the sentiment is appreciated.

He walks over the courtyard slowly, dragging a rake behind him. He has half a mind to try and clobber one of the handlers. Not only would the vindication give him pleasure, it certainly would draw some attention. Enough for Tango to sneak in and grab a communicator. Then again, the retribution wouldn't be pleasant. So maybe fridge that idea until later.

He's sure that Phil will help, though. Once they get out of here, after Techno recovers, he'll come back and burn this place to the ground. That's one thing to look forward to.

If he survives.

Chat murmurs agreement, fully on board with the destructive future plans. They're being uncharacteristically calm today, maybe because they've realized for once bothering him is only going to make things worse. And they're as eager to get out of here as Techno and Tango are. The Blood God does not receive prayers. Chat knows this too. But Techno can hear them imploring the deity for help. Strangely, it's almost touching. At the end of the day, they do care for his safety.

But blunt weapon assault is a no for now. So Techno has to think of something else. The answer is handed to him practically on a silver platter. He notices a group of hybrid captives is being ordered around by a handler, instructed to carry heavy wooden boxes from the back building to the other end of the courtyard. Techno doesn't know what for, but he does know this can be used to his advantage. He only has to loiter vaguely in that direction before the handler snaps her fingers and points at him.

"You. Piglin. Help carry this shit, come on. We don't have all day."

Ignoring the snappy tone, Techno nods and picks up the nearest box, grunting from the weight. His spine tingles in protest, making Techno bite his tongue so he can concentrate on pushing the cargo up in his arms, resting the sharp edge of the box against his chest. It presses into his sternum uncomfortably, but Techno isn't planning on carrying it far anyway.

He takes a few lumbering steps, waiting until most of the other hybrids aren't in his vicinity. Then he allows the box to tilt and fall, shattering its contents - a bunch of porcelain plates, apparently? - all over the ground. Predictably, the handler gasps and comes over to check it out.

From the corner of his eye, Techno sees Tango stalk behind her, now that her attention is on something else.

"How the fuck did you manage that?" the woman asks and Techno shrugs.

"Oops. Guess the box was kind of slippery."

She steps even closer to him, expression furious, and Techno can't help but notice she's about a head shorter than him. Despite that, he's smarter than to fight back when she gets in his face.

"Do you have any idea how important this stuff is? The mistress is having a party tomorrow and she'll be pissed at all of us if we mess this up," the woman scolds.

Techno stares her down impassively. "Has she considered paid labor if she wants people who deliver good work? Monetary compensation is a better motivator than slavery for most folks."

Her palm connects with his cheek, the sting not really that bad but she moved quicker than Techno expected. Or maybe his illness made his reflexes slack off. He blinks, skin smarting where she slapped him.

"Do not mouth off at me," the woman hisses.

He's not planning to continue the sarcasm, there's no point to it anyway. She still presses the button on her remote that makes the collar flare alive with electricity. Techno's muscles spasm and he sinks to his knees and hands. Behind the woman, Tango flinches back slightly. The remote activates all collars in a specific radius, so she probably shocked him too. A few seconds later it has already passed.

"Touchy much?" Techno grunts.

She raises her hand at him and this time Techno does catch it. Literally. Instinct is a funny thing, and it makes him throw up his own arm to grab her wrist. It is normal for a person not to want to be punched. So if they can stop it, obviously they will.

And obviously she's not happy.

The handler pushes him off, then presses the button again. The current burns through Techno's veins, making him close his eyes. They almost feel like they'd pop right out of his skull, the pressure between his temples building and building, though the shock stops right before he's certain something ruptures. He has barely a second to catch his breath before the handler kicks him in the stomach hard. One of his ribs cracks.

She might have said something to him, but Techno doesn't bother listening too closely. He's too busy keeping the oxygen in his lungs, the ground a merciful solid thing beneath him. His mouth tastes like blood, and when she walks away again, Techno spits into the dirt - saliva tinged red.

"Did it work?" he asks Tango, as the blaze hybrid comes to help him up.

"Like a charm. Can you walk?"

"I'll manage." Techno is very grateful for a hold against his middle holding him steady. "There's some kind of party going on tomorrow. Might be a good chance to escape."

"Heh, I doubt we're invited," Tango mutters.

"You might be," Techno says. At Tango's curious expression, he shrugs. "That woman did say something about showing you off to her friends. Party sounds ideal for that."

"Oh joy," Tango answers, visibly swallowing. Techno almost laughs at the deadpan reaction.

Nobody bothers them when they shuffle inside to their cots. Techno supposes the handlers have been told Tango is too valuable to bother for now, and Techno himself too sick. What are they going to do, run away again?

He sinks back against the wall. And then he grabs the note he has hidden under his pillow.

Note might be generous. Techno took some charcoal from one of the fires to write with, and scrabbled down a few messy lines on a piece of scrap paper he found lying around in the storeroom. Nothing much.

"What's that?" Tango asks. Techno folded it double. It would be pretty embarrassing if Tango were to go and read it.

"It's a note," he says. "It's uh, a note for Phil."

"Your friend?"

"If you get a chance to escape at the party you should take it." Oh boy, Techno would almost start to feel guilty about putting this much pressure on the guy, going by the dismayed expression on Tango's face.

"What do you mean?! We send out a signal and everything!" Tango insists, as if that already solved all of their issues. Techno wishes he could share in that optimism.

"We don't know how soon they'll get here. And when they do, they might not have brought enough people to launch a full assault and free all of us. Smarter you get out if you can. I want you to give this to Phil in case I-"

"Why would you even say that?" Tango put his hands over his ears stubbornly. "I'm not listening to this. You're going to get your butt out of this place and give Phil that dumb note yourself."

"Bruh, refusing to pass on a dying man's last words is probably a crime," Techno says, waving the note in Tango's face. "After all I've done you owe me this small favor." Tango reluctantly takes it.

"You're not dying," he says.

"Course not. Technoblade never dies."

Tango kind of gives him a weird look. Techno forgot that line doesn't really ring the same for people who haven't heard it a million times before. Just something silly the Skyblock folks came up with, to give his fights more of a zing to them.

"Tell me about that dungeon thing again," Techno says, laying back against the pillows. He needs to get his mind off how badly he feels like throwing up.

"Decked Out?" Tango asks, perking up, tail wagging. He's pretty easy to distract.

"Yeah, you were going to tell me about the fourth floor."

For a few more hours, Techno allows himself to enjoy Tango's rambling, weirdly reminiscent of when Phil would talk about his Hardcore building projects. He hopes that letter remains forever unread, but he's glad he wrote it all the same.

Another seizure wakes him up before the sun rises.

Tango should tell Technoblade that he can consider a career in divination. It's almost uncanny how so many of the things he predicted have turned out to be spot on.

What Tango isn't very happy about is being grabbed by the wrist and dragged into the building.

"The job is simple even for creatures as dense as you," a handler explains. "You carry around a tray, you don't speak a word unless you're addressed first, and you don't get distracted even if the posh idiots are gawking at you. Easy. Don't fuck up and we'll have no problems."

Tango tilts his head but doesn't say anything. The human servants don't like this buyer much either, or at least not her rich friends. Not enough to really help the hybrids though. Cowards. Tango never considered himself a brave sort of guy but you have to be a special type of jerk to condone trafficking people.

He picks up a tray stacked with full glasses. Yikes, he hates to think about the sort of punishment they'll have in mind for him if he messes this up. Tango's balance isn't amazing.

Following the lead of a few others who seem to know what they're doing - maybe because they've been tasked with serving parties before - he walks into the hallway and behind them to a set of double doors. He can hear the sound of music and chatter behind it. The soft noise feels almost unreal to him. How long have Tango and Techno been here? He hasn't exactly been keeping track, but it's probably close to a month or so since they've been kidnapped. Life outside went on as usual. The people behind this door haven't batted an eye, surely.

There's a tiny, stupid little burst of doubt in Tango's gut that wonders if the Hermits are even looking for him.

He doesn't want to think something so awful about his friends. He's not worried that they don't like him enough to come look for him or anything. But that's if they noticed he's gone, which, yeah, a month is a pretty long time but Tango's kinda known for digging himself into a hole sometimes (literally, figuratively, with a shovel and rarely with a TNT cart). Maybe they don't know he's missing?

And he can't shake the thought either that one of the others would probably have gotten themselves out of this mess by now.

Most of them are better at PVP than Tango is, and even the ones that aren't probably are more clever than him. Here Tango is waiting to be rescued like some maiden in distress, making Techno work himself to the bone and write sad final messages to his friends. How useless of him. Shouldn't he be doing something more? He's not been pulling his weight at all.

A shoulder bumps into him from behind, pushing him into motion. Zoning off is a really great strat, yeah. He's killing it. Note the sarcasm.

The room is loud and overwhelming, with more people in it than Tango expected. They stand around in small clusters, chattering away and paying no attention to the forced servants darting between them. Aside from a curious glance here or there, that is. He certainly feels some eyes drawn towards him. Tango hates it, but it's also not the worst thing to ignore. He'll take it over some of the other crap that he's been through.

He doesn't know how much time passes like that, an hour or so maybe. Tango really just has to walk around and doesn't react the once or twice anybody actually pays attention to him. This crowd oggles like they've never seen a blaze hybrid before, but they also seem reluctant to touch him. Tango sees some of the other hybrids get prodded and poked at. Either his flame-tipped tail or sharp fangs are enough to keep them away. Lucky him. He spends a majority of the time thinking about Techno anyway. And about how they both should get out of here. He didn't refuse to leave Techno behind before only for him to abandon his friend now!

The recognizable ping of a communicator makes his ear flick. Somebody getting a message? Nothing special, but then a second ping follows soon after. And more. Several people pull out their devices to glance at them.

A server announcement.

Everybody just got the same message.

Tango sees frowns, and some people leaning in close to whisper to each other. There is definitely unease in the air now and Tango notices some of the guards move to the door. Others move briskly across the room to talk to the woman who bought them, presiding over the festivities with an annoyingly shrill laugh. She hasn't even bothered to look at her communicator, but when one of her goons pulls on her sleeve and informs her of whatever is going on, her face goes three shades paler.

The party goes on unimpeded in other regards. Tango can't tell if any of the other hybrids have noticed anything amiss, and at least half the people who did see the message seem to shrug it off easily to continue drinking and chattering, and swaying unevenly to music.

But he only needs to do his best to lurk as close as he can to a few groups of those more feverishly engaging in conversation to overhear one single word.

'Intruders'.

The mass ping was a warning about somebody arriving at the server without permission.

Who else could it be except this Philza guy responding to their cry for help?

Okay, maybe that's wishful thinking on Tango's part, but it would also be a crazy coincidence if some other unauthorized person was breaking in a day after Tango managed to get their message out. If that's the case, Tango still might prefer to try his luck with them rather than the traffickers.

He needs to get out and find this intruder.

The tray he's carrying is nearly empty, only two glasses left. Tango decides to scuttle towards the side of the room, under the pretense of grabbing more. He sticks close to the wall, glancing around to make sure there are no eyes on him as he slips through a door and into the hallway. Piece of cake.

The silence beyond is almost eerie, the sounds of the party suddenly muffled through the wall. Tango immediately realizes the flaw of his plan here. How is he supposed to find this Phil? He doesn't even know how to get out of the building, let alone know where Phil is.

Maybe he can figure it out. He walks over to the windows and looks outside, the darkness making it hard to see many details. But if he's lucky…

There.

The glow is faint but unmistakable, the thin trail of beacon light already fading into nothing. The portal to come to the server was activated in that direction. Not as good as a compass but it's better than nothing.

"Hey, what are you doing out here?"

A hand landing on his shoulder makes Tango physically jump. The two remaining glasses upend on his tray, then fall to the ground fully where they shatter. The man who tried to grab him curses at the mess.

"I was just-" Tango starts, before being choked off by a hand on his throat.

The man slams him into the wall with more force than Tango expected, thumb pressing into his airway.

"It's always the same with you animals. Can't learn to behave for more than a second, can you? Even following simple instructions too hard for you?"

Tango kicks out, but the guy doesn't even flinch when his heel smacks into their knee twice. Instinctively, Tango curls both hands around the metal tray he's still holding. He bashes it into the man's chin. They let go.

Once he's done that, Tango can't exactly back out. He raises the tray and brings it down on the man's temple. They crumple to the ground and then don't move anymore, though Tango knows he's not strong enough to have knocked them out cold properly. He needs to leave.

Dropping the tray, he rattles the window but finds it locked. Tango looks around, but he can already hear the guy make noises to indicate he's recovering. At a loss for what to do, Tango breaks the window with his elbow and climbs out.

Or he tries to. The man grabs his ankle before he can get far.

Glass cuts into Tango's stomach as he's wrenched back and it makes a pained noise drag from his throat. He kicks again, more successful this time as it causes the man to let go and Tango to tumble headfirst out the window. He lands with an oompf, but wastes no time in getting up and dashing away. In the general direction of that beacon will be fine. The sharp sting of the cut helps keep everything in focus.

Or it should. He starts to feel vaguely lightheaded after several minutes.

It's fine though. Everything will be fine. Phil is here. Techno made him sound pretty competent. They can go back and fetch Techno and then go home and Tango will not come out of bed for a week and it's fine, he'll be fine, he can't breathe but it's going to be fine.

He runs right into a brick wall.

That's what it feels like anyway, the sheer force of it sending Tango back onto his butt with a hard hiss at the cut tearing open further. He's dizzily squinting up at an angel frowning down at him.

No, not an angel. The halo could have fooled him. But it's just Skizz.

Wait.

"Tango?!" To his muted surprise, Skizz seems about as flabbergasted to see Tango as Tango is to see him, which is saying a lot. Strong arms wind around him and pull him into a hug that smothers him - not great for his oxygen intake but great for morale.

And it's either that or for Tango to start crying on the spot.

"Tango, buddy, do you have any idea how worried we've been? What happened? Are you hurt?" Skizz asks, words rushing out a bit and all jumbled together since he's squishing the life out of Tango, face buried in Tango's shoulder.

"I'm-" Tango starts, then stops. He struggles against the hold. "Wait, we need to- We need to go back. We need to go back for Techno. Is it just you? Where are the others? We need-"

"Woah, calm down," Skizz says, not letting go. Maybe a good thing since Tango feels so dizzy he'd probably collapse the moment he doesn't have somebody else keeping him upright. "You're not making any sense right now."

"Techno! We have to!"

And then an angel does descend.

No, again, Tango is losing it. But the man has wings that are one solid color - black, hard to see in the twilight - and they're shaped differently than the wings Tango is used to seeing on Hermits. These are big and shaped less like a bird's wings are.

He blinks at them in confusion.

"Tell me where he is," the angel says. "I'll bring him back."

Chapter Text

The actual rescue is experienced as rather anticlimactic on Tango’s part.

Probably because of the blood loss. Combined with an adrenaline crash the likes of which is rare for him - and that’s saying something, since Tango 'Adrenaline Crash’ Tek is basically his full name - he’s a bit of a noodly mess for the majority of it. He keeps his wits about him long enough to point them in the direction of the estate, and give some information on how to best approach it. He stresses the importance of getting Techno out quickly. Or he hopes he does. By then, everything is getting kind of woozy.

Tango wishes he could go with them. He wants to be there and make sure everything goes okay, and so his friends don’t have to rush blindly into the lion’s den. It’s just that his legs barely have the strength to keep himself upright. Running headfirst into a combat situation would be out of the question for him. He’d just be a burden that makes everything harder for the others.

Still, as the first explosion can be heard, Tango shakes.

Skizz holds him tighter, hand rubbing up and down his back. Tango is entirely too exhausted and in too much pain to really be self-conscious about it like he’d usually be. It’s only a little bit embarrassing anyway, in how Skizz mutters reassurances under his breath that are hardly words anymore. Tango won’t pretend it’s not helping, and he trusts his friend enough that for all the playful teasing they get up to, this is something Skizz isn’t going to poke at him over later. Tango knows this.

“Hm,” Skizz mutters, using his other hand to fiddle with his communicator. He’s having some trouble with it since he’s also refusing to let go of Tango at all. Tango can’t actually see what he’s typing - his forehead rests against Skizz’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Tango manages to ask, tongue too numb for proper words. He could fall asleep like this, but haywire nerves won’t let him.

“Nothing,” Skizz says, too quickly.

“Really?” Tango tries to push away a bit, but again, dumb noodle arms.

“We’re fine,” Skizz says. Then gently knocks his knuckles against the back of Tango’s head. “Seriously, Top, stop worrying about it. You’ve done enough of that the past two months, I bet.”

“Two months?” Tango repeats automatically.

Is that really how long they’ve been gone for? That can’t be true… Can it? Tango’s head spins at the thought. At everything.

“Let me look,” Skizz says, carefully pushing up Tango’s shirt to inspect the wound in his stomach. They poured a potion on it, which means the bleeding has mostly stopped, but it has the unfortunate side-effect of draining the little amount of energy Tango has left. Potions aren’t really a fix for anything. They only speed up your body’s natural healing process on a small scale, and they take just as much out of you. Handy in a pinch when you don’t want to bleed to death all over the floor. Not ideal for long-term healing.

But that’s fine. Tango already decided he’s going to spend like, a week in bed after this.

“You’re fine,” Skizz says again. He sounds as if he’s trying to comfort himself more than Tango this time.

“‘Course I am.” Tango closes his eyes. “Wake me up when the others get back?”

Skizz chuckles softly. His fingers resume their soothing motion through his hair. “Sure buddy.”

Tango only holds out a few more seconds before drifting off.

By the time he wakes up, they’re already back on the Hermitcraft server. So note that one down as Skizz being a filthy liar who doesn't keep his promises, though Tango won’t hold it against him. He doesn’t exactly feel much better despite being passed out for several hours, which means he was probably in worse shape than he realized. 

“Ugh…” He tries to reach a hand up to rub his face but hisses when something pulls on the tendon. A sling? Did he dislocate his shoulder? His arm has been hurting but he didn't think it was that serious.

A soft snoring noise makes him look up.

Tango smiles at the sight of Impulse asleep in a chair next to the bed. He’s drooling down the front of his shirt just a little bit. Gross, yet endearing. Then again, Tango is probably at that point where he could see a recognizable tree from the server and let it bring him to tears. He’s just so relieved to be back.

But he can’t relax until he knows that they got Techno out too.

Slowly, Tango uses his other arm to force himself upright. He bites the inside of his cheek at a sharp sting flaring to live in his stomach. He can feel the tightness of bandages stretched across the wound, the pressure on the edge of painful. Whoever invented potions should have added some sort of numbing agent to them. Why hasn’t that already been done?

He looks around, not recognizing the building they’re in. Not one of his then, though Tango can’t say he’d done an in-depth inspection of all his friends’ bases recently. He was pretty absorbed in building Decked Out before he was kidnapped. The high ceiling and abundance of shelves littered with knickknacks seem like something Cleo would do.

Using the wall for support, he shuffles toward the door. He’s dizzy, and at several points afraid he’ll lose his balance. But slow and steady wins the race. Impulse doesn’t even wake up to scold him!

Then he grabs the handle to push the door open and immediately his grip slips.

In his defense, his dumb noodle arms apparently haven’t fully unnoodled. Denoodled? A spasm runs through the muscle right as he tries to use the handle and that’s totally not his fault, okay? Tango falls through it, clinging to the handle to keep from sprawling completely on the floor, and then knocks the door into the wall. The conversation two people are having on the other side cuts off abruptly.

One of them is Xisuma and the other is the angel Tango saw in the woods.

Not an angel, an avian. Tango feels he is faintly familiar - in the same way Techno was the first time they met. Not that he really knows the guy, but maybe like he has seen him before because he’s famous or something. Tango is the worst person to ask about that since he fails to keep up with those sorts of things. Tournaments and such have never interested him. Grian would probably know. He knows everybody.

“Tango?” Xisuma stands, the exhaust of his metallic exoskeleton puffing at the sudden movement. He must have been sitting down for a while. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“I was just-” Tango stops as the door wobbles. The last thing he needs is for Xisuma to put him on forced bedrest because he hurt himself, so he takes a moment to steady. “Just trying to check if everybody is okay?”

“We should be asking you that,” Impulse says, coming up behind him and taking hold of his elbow. “I mean, seriously, dude? You’re awake for three seconds.”

Tango scrunches up his face a bit in displeasure at all the fussing. Not exactly his strong suit, really. He appreciates his friends care, the mushy stuff makes him want to shrug it all off and change the subject. No matter how much part of him has missed this the past months. He allows Impulse to support him as he awkwardly hobbles the rest of the way to the table and sits down on an empty chair.

“You’ve met Phil,” Xisuma says, gesturing with one hand at the avian while taking his own seat again.

“Kind of,” Tango says.

“Briefly,” Phil agrees with a small smile. He looks very… calm, right now. Maybe it was the blood loss or maybe Tango was on the edge of delusion back then, but Phil seemed a lot more intimidating before. Now he looks like a regular guy.

“Techno told me about you,” Tango says. “Is he…?”

“He’s doing okay. He’s in bed, like you should be, actually.” Xisuma pushes a glass of water over the table until it sits in front of Tango. Impulse has disappeared into the kitchen - or what Tango can assume is the kitchen from a glance - and Tango can smell food cooking. His mouth waters at the scent.

“I’m fine,” Tango mumbles, leaving the glass where it is. “Really, things weren’t so bad for me, not compared to some of the others.” Well, mostly Techno.

“It’s not a competition, mate,” Phil says.

“Eat first,” Impulse cuts in, returning with a bowl of something steaming. “There’ll be time to talk after. You need to get your strength up.” After weeks of basically only being served broth and soup, Tango thought he wouldn't be able to stomach that stuff ever again. But he’s really hungry. He’d eat Scar’s cooking at this point, and that’s saying something.

“Thanks,” Tango says as he takes the bowl.

“For the record, we made Zedaph distract Skizz for a bit because he was going stir-crazy in here, but I doubt he’ll be able to keep him away for long,” Impulse continues. “Everybody has been pretty worried. But we told them you both need some space at first.”

The soup is delicious. Tango is so busy enjoying it he almost forgets to respond. “Good idea.”

He has missed his friends and he can’t wait to see them again. At the same time, the thought of being surrounded by people makes him want to crawl into a hole and die.

Especially if they’re all going to be looking at him the same way Xisuma is right now, head slightly tilted, observant. Oh god, is he going to be called in for a psych eval? Tango hasn’t needed to go in for one of those since the end of Season Eight.

“What happened to uh, to the place?” he asks, trying to get his mind off it.

“Gone,” Xisuma says.

“Gone?”

“Gone gone,” Impulse repeats for their admin. “Like, wiped off the map gone.”

“Grian deleted the server. And the one you were on before, the trafficker base.”

Oh, he must have been pissed .

“No matter,” Phil says with a grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. “We made them pay for it first.”

“The other victims are being looked after, and the traffickers are being processed by the system. Nothing for you to be concerned about, Tango. We’ve taken care of it,” Xisuma clarifies.

Of course, they didn’t murder everybody in cold blood. Tango definitely didn’t think they had for one brief second. Wiping a server is serious stuff though, Tango had no idea Grian has that sort of sway.

“He’s waking up!” A nervous voice calls from down the hallways. Followed a few seconds later by a tall enderman hybrid half-running into the room. He bends down to scoot beneath the doorframe. When he sees Tango, their eyes meet for a moment, before quickly darting away. “Sorry,” he adds sheepishly.

Phil is already getting up, presumably to check on Techno if that’s who they’re talking about. Tango automatically gets up too and follows them, though he’s not as fast. Neither Xisuma nor Impulse stop him.

The last time he saw Techno, the guy looked half-dead. Tango can’t shake the image. Seeing Techno upright in the bed, something feels almost like it will break inside him, but in a good way. At least for that first glance, until he hears the words Techno is actually saying.

“Phil, I can’t see anything.”

Techno doesn’t remember a thing from the past three days.

Another side-effect of the seizure he apparently had. Not that he has any memory of that either. It happened somewhere during the rescue, so that’s all one big blur. Waking up and realizing he had lost his sight was probably one of the worst things to ever happen to him, and that’s saying something given Techno’s track record.

“It’s only temporary.” Techno blinks at a small light flicking across his face. He’s not fully blind. He notices the brightness, somehow. “The occurrence is rare, but seizures can lead to partial amaurosis.”

“How long until it clears up?” Phil asks from his right.

“Hours? Days? Weeks? Who knows.”

On his other side, Tango squeezes his wrist. “Well, until that happens, you better stay here, right?”

“Right,” Techno agrees. Tango has been somewhat jumpy at the thought of Techno leaving again.

“You can take as much time as you need,” said with a slight edge of mechanical noise. The admin. The doctor (literally Doc is his name) grunts and stands up, Techno’s ear twitches at the light shifting of a lab coat.

“Even if your sight returns, you’ll be more prone to losing your vision again if you ever get another head injury. Is that something to be concerned about?”

“Eeeeeeeeeeh,” Techno says, shrugging. He hears Phil laugh and Ranboo makes a small sound of dismay.

“It is. With him it definitely is,” Ranboo says.

“Not to mention the chance of relapse.”

“More seizures?” Tango asks.

“Possibly.”

“How about for now you both focus on getting in tip-top shape again and we’ll go from there?” The admin takes a step closer. “Thanks for your time, Doc.”

“Anytime.” A light hiss precedes the man straightening fully. “What do I tell the others? Because you know they’re all waiting to barge the door down with how many new guys are here.”

Techno feels Tango tense up. Another squeeze, and he awkwardly leans in to press his shoulder into Tango’s.

“Their curiosity can wait,” the admin decides.

After they leave the room, it’s just Techno, Tango, and Phil. Ranboo has to be heading back to their server soon, to make sure the commune doesn’t burn down in their absence. The fact that Techno isn’t around certainly has been noticed. Two months is a long time.

And yet Tango seems in no rush to leave this room.

Techno expected the other man to be off like a rocket the moment they came back to his home server, especially from the way he talked about it. His friends, his projects, his eagerness to return to normalcy. Every story Techno told about his own status quo only seemed to horrify Tango by comparison.

But here he is, reluctant to leave Techno’s side for longer than it takes to fetch water or food.

Yesterday, Techno woke up in the middle of the night to a slight tug on his blanket. 

Too sluggish from the pain and malnutrition he’s still recovering from, Techno wasn’t in much of a condition to fight back had somebody come to kill him in his sleep. But it was Tango, curling up against him underneath the blanket.

He didn’t say anything. Techno didn’t say anything either.

They didn’t need to, to know they both felt safer that way.

“It’s normal that you need more time,” Techno says. “People kind of suck, I wouldn’t want to be around a ton of them either.”

Tango chuckles slightly. What Techno means is the pity and the fretting. Tango seems to be better at bearing that than him, but the sentiment remains.

“Yeah…” Tango exhales. “Yeah, I guess.” He hesitates. Then a few seconds later, Techno hears the door creak and supposes Phil must have stepped out too. Strange.

Techno’s head hurts too much to think about it.

“You know you don’t have to leave at all, right?” Tango asks. “If you want to stay on the Hermit server you can.”

“I’m not much of a builder,” Techno says. He’s heard about this place enough to tell he won’t truly fit in. The things they create are more impressive than Phil’s hardcore exploits and those give Techno a run for his money. Kind of ironic that Techno can’t see it with his own eyes now that he’s finally here. Then again, what they’re all probably implying is that going back to a place where people are known to throw anvils at him might be a bad idea. Touché.

“You don’t have to be,” Tango says. “I mean, you can learn to be more of a builder if you want to. But you don’t have to.”

The proposition should be absurd. Except…

Except when Techno really thinks about it, he can’t come up with many reasons to refuse the offer. Granted he can organize for his pets to be moved to this server, but that shouldn’t be the hardest thing in the world to figure out. Knowing Tango, the blazeborn can probably come up with a way to use redstone and automate the process.

“I’ll think about it,” Techno says.

“Standing in the sun for hours isn’t going to make your headache any better.”

Techno sighs and turns around, the swing wide and not very targeted. Tango has no issue dodging out of the way of the lethal farming implemented he’s holding anyway. “What makes you think I have a headache?”

“Hm, let me guess.” Tango holds up his hand so he can literally count on his fingers. “One: you locked yourself in your base yesterday, which you only do if you have a migraine.”

Techno hums. “It’s called a self-care day. You should try it.”

“Two: Scar told me you had another partial seizure during one of the mini-games the day before that.”

“Bruh, he wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

“And three: you’re squinting. While wearing your glasses. That’s headache squinting!”

“It’s kind of foggy out here,” Techno says flatly. It’s noon on a hot summer day. If the air was any dryer, they might as well be in the Nether again.

“Let’s just go inside. Your potatoes can wait another day, man.”

“Not if I want to outpace a redstone farm.” Tango honest to god glares at him. “What?”

“You’re never allowed to make fun of me again for spending too long stuck in a hole,” Tango says.

Techno laughs. He pushes the hoe back into the ground, but Tango persists.

“You know it’s either this or us telling Phil when he gets back from his hardcore world.”

A hard bargain. Techno moved to Hermitcraft permanently, since he has nowhere else to be. He visits Hypixel sometimes but that’s about it. Tournaments above the level of friendly competition with low stakes are in his past. And he’s done with wars.

Well, aside from prank wars.

Phil divides his time more equally between here and his personal projects. He’s the one who built the base they share. Techno isn’t entirely sure where Ranboo and Niki hang out these days, he’s just glad they’re gone from the old server and they stay in touch, sometimes even visit. It’s not quite the revolutionary group of anarchists he was working on before all this, but it’s something good all the same.

Maybe better.

“Fine. You win.” He raises his arms. “But may I remind you I almost died because of you.”

“Don’t try to guilt trip me. That literally only worked for the first month you were here,” Tango says, walking ahead of him towards the path that leads to the front door, lined with flowers.

“It was worth a shot.” Techno puts his tool down to follow him, wiping his hands on his pants.

"Come on, I have some ideas for Decked Out improvements I want to run by you," Tango says with a skip in his step.

The universe has strange ways of making things turn out sometimes. Techno might turn into a builder yet.